Unknown Soldier
by DarklingDragon
Summary: They thought they could control him. They thought they controlled his every thought and desire. They thought they had the perfect weapon. Oh, how wrong they were...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So my Internet has been down for the past couple of weeks so I've been amusing my self with coming up with ideas for my other story and then out of the blue I was struck with a plot idea that would not leave me alone. Here's the result.

**Title: Unknown Soldier**

**Summary: They thought they could control him. They thought they controlled his every thought and desire. They thought they had the perfect weapon. **_**Oh,**_** how wrong they were…**

**Rating: M **

**Notes: I had really wanted to get into the workings of the Wizarding society especially the politics but I think it will be much easier to do that with this plot than my previous story's plot. I also have been itching to see an Assassin!Harry story that is not slash. Nothing against it but I've just seen far too many. So I decided to write my own slash free Assassin fic. This story is a very slight Harry Potter/Jason Bourne crossover. I'll be using the general idea from the Jason Bourne movies but no characters from the Bourne series will appear. I'll be adding my own plot devices in the story. So fear not, this story will not be identical to the movies. On a side note, the title of this story is the name of a song by Breaking Benjamin. I own neither. I thought it fit in rather well with the theme of the story. And I think this is the longest chapter I have ever written. Over 5,000 words, baby! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am making no profit from this story.**

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_Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office. 1980 _

A warm fire crackled merrily in a circular room. Various trinkets were scattered about the room haphazardly and a plethora of worn books were settled happily on a groaning bookcase. Near a majestic window there was a tall wooden perch for some unknown animal. Several squishy chairs were circled around a dark mahogany desk. Behind the desk an old, frail, man sat slumped on a high-backed chair. He wore robes of a deep blue with sparkling silver stars. Albus Dumbledore sighed wearily. He pressed his index fingers to his temples and rubbed to ward off an oncoming headache. He dreaded the news he had to give the two young families. He had put it off far too long but oh how he wished he could spare them the pain of the truth. Albus was quite fond of these particular people. That's not to say he didn't adore all the students who passed through his halls but these select students would always hold a special place in his heart.

Albus Dumbledore watched hundreds of young children pass these ancient halls filled with high hopes and desires to change the world. And some did go out to make a difference in the world. A wry smile pulled at his lips as he thought of a young Amelia Bones prattling on about politics enthusiastically, musty book on hand. He was grateful all the budding minds had a place to further their studies but even more importantly prepare them for life. A terrible fury rose steadily inside him at the thought of the man who was trying to ruin this haven. A beautiful melody thrummed through the air and in a flash of crimson fire, a swan like bird appeared. The anger melted slowly off his face as he gazed at the bird.

"Hello, my old friend." He said softly. He lifted up his hand to stroke the phoenix's bright plumage. The creature crooned in delight and leaned into his touch. His anger was replaced with a deep sense of failure. Thomas Marvolo Riddle. Lord Voldemort. The Knights of the Walpurgis. He had warped and twisted himself into something unimaginable and Albus feared that Tom's excessive study and practice of the Dark Arts would prove to be the end of the world as they knew it. He shuddered to think of what would happen if Tom ever got full reign of the Wizarding World. If there had ever been a child that had needed his help it was young Mister Riddle. Albus Dumbledore was rarely wrong but when he was he had always made the most impacting mistakes. The bird nudged insistently at his weathered hand and let out an impatient chirp. He chuckled lightly at Fawkes antics.

He pushed away his wearisome thoughts of past mistakes and focused on the topic at hand. The Potters and the Longbottoms. Such good people and so young. They were still children themselves, too young to have to deal with such burdens. Alas, that was life. Knowing the truth might prepare them for what was to come and perhaps that might be the extra edge they needed to keep themselves alive. He could only hope. Loud clanging footsteps echoed from outside the door to his office.

"Honestly, James! I've already told you I haven't the faintest idea of what the Headmaster could possibly want."

"What? I don't remember you saying that."

There was a loud huff and a sharp smacking sound.

"_Owww_! Lily! What was that for?"

"For not listening. I told you three times but you were to busy fooling around with Sirius on those stupid broomsticks. I don't talk just for my own amusement I _do_ expect you to listen to me. Stupid."

Albus smiled fondly at their bickering. It reminded him of better times when the threat of Tom was a distant concern to the majority of the Wizarding World. He loathed to ruin their naiveté and innocence but it couldn't he helped.

"Come in." He called benevolently seconds before they knocked.

A tall man with flyaway hair entered with his arm slung around a petite redhead. James grinned charmingly at Dumbledore.

"How do you do that?" James said with playful accusation. Lily shook her red mane in amused exasperation and rolled her eyes. "Ignore him, Headmaster. He was obviously dropped on the head as a child."

"Oh, well I don't know about that, my dear." Albus remarked lightly. His snowy beard twitched in amusement and he lifted his eyes up to gaze at the ceiling delicately.

"No, really. How _do_ you do that? Sirius and I have been trying to figure out that for ages. Remus was no help." James whined and gave the Headmaster a pathetic look. Albus smiled mysteriously but gave no answer.

"Have a seat. You must be quite tired. I hear the weather is horrid." Albus waved his arm in a broad sweeping gesture at the soft chairs. "We have a couple of more guests coming in about--- ah, yes, here they are…Come in!" Lily and James spun around at his remark.

"Oh! Alice! I haven't seen you in ages!" Lily gushed excitedly and dashed to the other woman. Lily threw her slender arms around Alice and squeezed tightly.

"Merlin, Lily loosen the death grip would you." Alice laughed weakly. The redhead let go of her friend and smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry, Alice. Guess I got a tad over excited." Lily laughed and flicked her hair over her shoulder absently. Her eyes were bright with happiness as she gazed at her old schoolmate.

"How's little Neville? He such a dear." Lily inquired. "I feel absolutely horrible I haven't been able to see him. But you know I've been so busy."

"Oh, think nothing of it. Nev's doing fine. Absolutely booming. There's no need to feel guilty." Alice said smiling softly at Lily.

" I know it's irrational but you named me his godmother so I feel like I'm neglecting my godmotherly duties or something." Lily said wryly with a self-deprecating grin.

" Now you sound like Sirius, Lils. He's always moaning about his duties as a godfather if he doesn't see Harry at least once a week. The idiot." James interjected smiling. He turned to Alice. " 'Lo, Alice it's good to see you again."

"Yes, you too James. The Academy going good for you?" Alice asked politely. James opened his mouth to answer when Albus interrupted.

"If I might interrupt children, but is not Frank with you, Alice?" Albus questioned curiously as he gazed at them from above his half moon spectacles.

"Oh sorry, Headmaster! I forgot all about you." Lily said as she smacked her palm against her forehead.

"Yeah, The Headmaster is a pretty forgettable person." James drawled sarcastically. Lily flushed bright red and smacked James on the back of the head. "Shut it, you prick." She whispered indignantly. She turned to Alice. "Now that you mention it where is Frank?"

Alice smiled apologetically at them. "I'm terribly sorry, Headmaster, but Frank wasn't able to come. He really tried to get some time off but Crouch said no. Surprise, Surprise." She said somewhat bitterly. "I swear that man is going to run my Frank into an early grave, but Frank won't say a thing about the extra work. He idolizes him. Thinks Crouch is shoe in for Minister come elections."

James laughed in mirth. "Oh yeah, good old Frank loves the man. I swear! He thinks Crouch is just what we need to knock Voldemort down for good."

"I'm just grateful he isn't your Head of Department, James. Really, Alice I don't know how you do it!" Lily exclaimed.

"I know, Alice. I hear Crouch is a slave driver. Frank must hardly get to see you and his kid." James said sympathetically. Dumbledore turned to Alice.

"That's quite unfortunate, Alice. I had hoped the both of you would be able to be here." Albus frowned and gave Alice a penetrating stare. She shifted uncomfortably. "Headmaster…?"

Albus blinked and shook his head slightly. He gave her a kind smile. "My apologies, my dear. I merely got lost in thought."

James cleared his throat loudly and sprawled out on one of the chairs. "So Headmaster what's the occasion?" He asked curiously.

Albus's face grew grave and James and Lily exchanged worried looks.

"I had hoped that Frank would be here but…" Albus gave Alice a concerned glance. " Well I suppose I should just get on with it, no?" Dumbledore sighed sorrowfully.

An icy chunk of fear settled heavily in the pits of their stomachs. This wouldn't be good news if it had Dumbledore looking so worried.

"Recently, I has come to my attention that a prophecy has been made…concerning your children." Albus said lowly. His twinkling blue eyes had dimmed to a solemn dark blue.

Lily's heart pounded painfully in her chest. Not Harry…Anyone but Harry. She cleared her throat to penetrate the heavy silence. " _Prophesy_! What rubbish! Surely you don't believe in that kind of hogwash, Headmaster." She scoffed but there was a tinge of hysteria lurking beneath her voice. Her eyes were suspiciously bright as she gazed unflinchingly at Dumbledore. Her chin was lifted up slightly in defiance. James squeezed her hand tightly, his face was drained of color and his hazel eyes held a look of unabashed horror.

"H-Headmaster you- are you positive?" Alice's voice wavered fearfully. Her eyes were wide in utter terror.

"Yes. I'm positive. I would not have bothered you if I had not been absolutely sure. I-" Lily stood up abruptly knocking her chair down. She glared furiously at them. "What is wrong with you! I can't fathom how you all can take this Prophesy to be worth more than a grain of salt!" She sneered. Blood pumped through in her veins. _Please not my baby… _"Divination is the most unreliable branch of magic. Even Professor McGonnagal said so." How could James just sit there and take this!

"Lily…" James said sorrowfully, eyes bright. She turned furiously to him and saw the terrible truth in his eyes.

"No…no…" She moaned. "_Please no_…" A pitiful whimper escaped her and her legs buckled underneath her. James arm darted out to catch her and he tugged her until she was nestled up next to him on the chair.

"What does it say, sir?" He croaked with red rimmed eyes. Alice's head snapped up and she lost the vacant look on her face.

Albus looked mournfully at them. "Do you truly wish to know?"

"Yes. Yes, I want to know." Alice said forcefully. She pushed her hair out of her eyes shakily. "I want to know."

"Lily? James?" He questioned. Lily let out a choked sob and gripped James hand. She nodded into his chest. "Yeah, We want to know, too." James answered softly with a far off look in his eyes.

Albus got up slowly and walked over to a cabinet on the other side of the room. Carefully, he pulled out a stone basin with runes etched into it. He set it on he desk and sat back down. He flicked his wrist and his wand materialized into his wrinkled hand. Dumbledore waved his wand over the silvery surface of the bowl's contents and the misty projection of a bug like woman appeared. She opened her mouth and boomed in a deep, hoarse voice:

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_

"Oh _God_…" Lily murmured. She blinked back the flood of tears just waiting to escape. She could feel her body beginning to tremble. Her sweet, innocent baby. What kind of twisted monster could ever think of laying a hand on him. Bright emerald eyes identical to her own swam into her vision and she felt a swell of pure agony sweep through her.

"Wait…It said 'The one with the power'." Alice said suddenly. "That implies that only one our children is the one of the prophesy." James's head snapped up and he looked at the Headmaster with barely concealed hope.

"Is that true Headmaster?" Lily demanded her eyes shining and wild. _Please let it be true. Please. Please…_

Dumbledore pressed the tips of his long fingers together. His face was lined with fatigue and worry. "Yes. It is true." He said after a long pause. "But I'm afraid that doesn't change anything."

"What the _hell_ do you mean it doesn't change anything, Dumbledore. It changes everything." James snarled. His fists were clenched tightly and he shook in desperation. Dumbledore looked at him sadly.

"It changes nothing, James." Dumbledore said firmly. "Even though I know the prophecy only refers to one child, I am still at loss to the knowledge of exactly which of your children it refers to."

"Fuck!" James growled and dug his fingers harshly into his hair. He squeezed his eyes shut, determined not to cry. This couldn't be happening. Lily shifted beside him.

"What will we do, Headmaster?" She said softly. Misery lined her voice but there was an undertone of steely determination in her tone.

There was a long silence and then the Headmaster spoke. "I think you should take steps to go into hiding. Soon."

"The Fidelius Charm." Lily stated furrowing her brow in concentration. She gave Dumbledore a hard look. He smiled gently at her.

"Brilliant as always, Lily." Dumbledore said. He shifted, bones creaking. "Ah, I'm not the age I used to be." He murmured and lifted his eyes to give them a considering look.

"Then we'll need a secret keeper." Alice whispered in fear. "_Surely,_ you of all people know there are few, if any, we can trust to the extent this charm needs. This is my baby's _life_ we're talking about."

"I understand your concern, Alice. That is the reason I am prepared to offer my services as a secret keeper to whichever of you will have me." Dumbledore said sagely. Alice stood up straighter in her chair.

"Frank and I would be honored to have you as our secret keeper, Headmaster." She said quickly while shooting Lily an apologetic glance. Lily opened her mouth in protest.

"That's fine, sir. I think we can get Sirius to be our secret keeper. I'd trust him with my life and he loves Harry to death." James interrupted laying a calming hand on Lily's. She relaxed slightly but couldn't completely quell the bubble of fury at Alice.

"Well then if you're sure, we must begin preparations immediately." Dumbledore said firmly. Despite the help Dumbledore was offering Lily couldn't banish the sense of dread rising in her. This wouldn't end well.

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__Godric's Hallow, 1990_

Lily swept across the kitchen of their modest cottage singing softly under her breath. The sun was barely rising and the small woodland creatures were barely beginning to awaken from their slumber. She loved these quite times in the morning when she could just relax without all the chaos the day brought. Lazily, she reached into the sink to pull out a damp wash cloth. She turned on the water and began to do the dishes. She loved magic, truly she did, but sometimes it was nice to remember her roots and do things the old fashioned way the same way her mother taught her. The cool water sent chills down her spine as it slid smoothly down her palms. Sometimes it was nice to take a break from the worries that plagued her mind day in and day out.

She inclined her head up to look out the dewy window. A surge of longing flowed through her, dark and heady. Lily flushed with guilt at her simple desire. No. _No_. She pinched her lips together and shoved her hands into the soapy water. So much had changed since her school days. _So much_. Idly, she twirled a soap covered bronze fork between her milky fingers. Around and around and around. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly for several seconds. This wasn't the world she wanted her children to grow up in. Not even in her worst nightmares had she imagined such a world.

A tinny sounding _ping _vibrated through the small kitchen. She snapped her head to the source of the noise; red hair flowed wildly about her. A round panel about the size of her head glowed bright blue. Heart still pounding, she walked over to the device and pressed her palm into the center. The surface of it gave way easily under her hand allowing her to stick her hand in. She pulled out a rolled piece of folded parchment.

Fear lodged itself tight and hot in her throat as she looked at the Daily Prophet. She wistfully recalled a time when she would giggle with her friends over the pictures of handsome wizards and flashy ads of clothing. Those times were long gone now. Lily skimmed over the bold headlines. Death. Rape. Violence. Nothing she hadn't heard and seen hundreds of times in the past decade. She focused on the list of the newest deaths. Relief bubbled within her and her taut muscles loosened. There was no one she knew this week. A small blessing in these dark times. Dumbledore had promised he'd do everything in his power to keep them safe and so far he had succeeded. James, the children, and herself were safe and according to the scraps of information she had rustled up Alice and her family were also safe. Things might be stressful and tense but their security was near fool proof and for that she was eternally grateful. Sirius had truly come through for them. It was a good thing she had put her foot down when Sirius had come up with that inane idea to switch secret keepers. The man was loyal as a dog but he wouldn't know a good plan if it smacked him on the arse. She shook her head fondly.

She flicked her eyes to the worn calendar pinned near the stove. July the 25th. In only a year she would have to send Harry to Hogwarts. Her sweet child. Love and affection bubbled up deep with in her at the thought of him. Lily was never one to play favorites but her first born would always hold a special place within her. Out of all her children he was the one whom she could relate the most with. They were birds of a feather as her mother used to say. He was…quiet. James worried about him often. She laughed lightly. Just because the dear boy wasn't obsessed with Quiddich or rowdy all the time didn't mean he wasn't normal. Just different. Her full lips pulled up sadly. He had a certain intensity about him that often made other children shy away from him, even his own brother and sister. Oh they tried to include him in their games but they never seemed to be fully comfortable with Harry with them. Always skittish or forced smiles. She tried not to resent them for it. Out of all of them Harry was the most affected by their self imposed isolation. There were no children his age he could interact with and as much as it pained her to admit it his family just wasn't enough to give him every thing he needed no matter how much they wished it were so.

"Mum?" a soft childish voice questioned. Lily jumped slightly at the noise. She turned around to she her oldest child. Rumpled up black hair and bleary emerald eyes. She smiled brightly at him.

"Goodness, Harry! You startled me." She scolded playfully. He grinned sheepishly at her. Just like his father she thought fondly. Lily ran a pale hand through his errant locks in an attempt to tame it. No matter what James said she refused to believe it was a lost cause.

"You're up early." She said, half question, half statement. Emerald met emerald as she looked into his eyes with concern. His lips quirked up slightly and he shook his head in negative. Relief flooded through her.

"I'm glad you slept well, love. Now, what do you want to eat? Eggs _ooor_…" She rifled through the pantry. "Eggs?" She grinned somewhat guilty. She'd have to talk to James about their funds.

"Eggs." Harry said smiling, eyes clear of accusation. He pulled out a battered book and began to read. Time passed quickly with just the two of them and soon enough the rustling of the other occupants awakening could be heard. A chubby boy with round, pink, cheeks shuffled into the kitchen with a small toddler in tow. The boy dragged his arm tiredly across his eyes and squinted into the brightly-lit kitchen.

"What's for breakfast, mummy?" He called as he shuffled to the nearest wooden chair. Lily turned to him and smiled lightly.

"Eggs, Brian." He scowled slightly at her words.

"_Awww_…again, mum? We've had stupid eggs all week." He whined. Lily's smile faltered slightly before she resumed her cheerful smile.

"It's all we got, Brian. Stop being a git." Harry said lightly but there was underlying steel in his words. Brian began to turn red.

"Harry…" Lily chastised firmly. He flushed in guilt and ducked his head back into the book. She turned to Brian with her hand perched on her hip and gave him a penetrating look.

"Now, Brian, I'm sorry you don't like the food but we haven't got enough money to be spending on frivolities. Okay?" She said sternly.

"Yes, mum." Brian murmured poking at his plate of eggs.

"Good." Lily said satisfied and patted her youngest son on the head affectionately. Now where was…

"Joanne! There you are. I didn't see you." She said to the two-year-old girl sitting on the floor. She kneeled down to pick her up taking in her mussed up ginger hair and brown eyes.

"_Omph! _You're getting heavy there aren't you, dear?" She said bumping their noses together. The small child giggled in glee and tugged at Lily's dark red hair. She winced and pulled her daughter's pudgy had off of her hair.

"No pulling on Mummy's hair, sweetheart." She scolded absently while she filled up two more plates of food. James should be getting up soon.

"G'morning, Lily." A deep voice grumbled from her left. She rolled her eyes at his disheveled form. She slid her fingers in his hair in vain attempt to fix it. He grunted at her and swated at her hand. _Honestly_.

"Good Morning, James." She said shaking her head at him in exasperation. She set a steaming cup of coffee near his right hand. He fumbled for it and slurped it down. The dazed look began to clear form his eyes a while later.

"Dunno how you and Harry wake up so damned early." James said sounding far more awake than he did previously. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. He turned his hazel eyes the children. Brian was slumped dejectedly over his meal. Joanne was happily making a mess of her creamed carrots on the table and Harry was absentmindedly shoving spoon fulls of egg into his mouth while his nose was shoved into a brown book. James grinned warmly at them. He tuned back to her and said lowly:

"I need to talk to you. Meet me in our room in fifteen minutes. I got a surprise." He winked at her and stumbled out of the kitchen ruffling the children's hair on the way out. Lily blinked in confusion. What could James possibly want to talk about? She quickly washed the dishes and shooed the children out of the kitchen. Lord knows they would make a mess of the place if she left them unattended. Harry quietly settled himself on her old rocking chair in the living room and continued reading. Brian and Joanne amused themselves with the muggle blocks she had charmed to change colors. Everything looked fine. No need to worry about leaving them alone for awhile. She climbed the wooden staircase, cup of tea in hand and headed to her and James room. She could hear the muffled voices of the children chattering.

"Hey, where's mum goin'? And what were they talkin' 'bout earlier?"

"She and Dad were planing a secret meeting." She heard Harry's distinctly matter of fact tone say.

"A meeting for what?" Brian, Lily thought fondly while she took another sip of her warm tea.

"To have sex, of course. I read that-" Lily spluttered as she inhaled the tea the wrong way. She flushed bright crimson.

"Harry!" She shrilled. "You finish that sentence and I will lock up the library!"

"Yes, mum." He called back meekly but there was a tinge of laughter in his voice. Her eyes widened. He knew exactly what he was saying. She had secretly feared when his father's mischievous qualities would surface in Harry. Lily sighed in defeat and stomped up the stairs.

She swung open the door to her bedroom and was met with James's mirth filled face. She shut the door and gave him a halfhearted glare.

"I suppose you enjoyed that did you?" She said disgruntled. He smirked at her, eyes dancing.

"I sure did. Now I don't have to give him 'The Talk'." He reclined back lazily on their bed, charming grin in place. "You think I can rankle Harry in to giving it to Brian?"

She tossed a pillow in his face in irritation. James's arm darted out and snatched it before it touched him. An arrogant smile fluttered across his face.

"I told you all that reading you encouraged was going to come back and bite you on the arse. But have no fear I've got just the solution to our bookworm son's problems. Can't have him turning out like you or Merlin forbid, Remus." He slid smoothly off the bed and scrambled to the chest at the foot of their bed. With one quick flick of his wand the lid snapped open with a loud clank. He stuck his head in and shuffled the items inside around. He rose up and pulled out a small box about the size of a matchbox.

"Aha!" He crowed enthusiastically as he waved the box about. Eyes sparkling, he turned back to Lily.

"You know Harry's birthday is coming up, so I was thinking maybe we could do something special for him." James said happily. "So me and Dumbledore got to talking and we figured out something." Lily shifted her eyes to the box. Her eyes widened in recognition and horror at the symbol carved into the wooden surface of the box.

"No, James." She said steely. Her voice brooked to room for protest. James features remained undeterred. There was a stubborn look about his eyes and he braced himself for a fight he would make sure he won.

"I'll be completely safe. Dumbledore himself is helping ward the place, Lily! He said he'll even lend us his tent. The one he used when he was staking out Griduwalds fortress. How much safer can you get." He said forcefully. A fierce protective instinct rose within her. No.

"No! No, James it's not safe. You know what could happen. You know about the-" she cut her self off and her eyes darted nervously at the door and windows. "You _know_."

"What's life with out a little risk, Lily." He murmured pleadingly. "Come on."

Fury exploded within her chest. "This is our son's life we are talking about!" She hissed venomously. "We don't take risks concerning his safety. _Never_."

"Besides, Harry doesn't even like Quiddich, James. Why would he want to go to the World Cup?" She sneered. James's eyes darkened in anger.

"He doesn't like Quiddich cause you never let him play! Face it Lily you coddle him." He snapped back. "He may be safe but he isn't _living_!"

"I do not." She whispered harshly. "He likes to read. He enjoys it. You just can't stand the fact that he's not like you."

"He'll be safe, there's going to be hundred's of Aurors patrolling. Hell, Dumbledore said even the Flamels were going to help with the warding. The security will be top notch. I swear it. I would never have even considered it if I didn't know for sure that it was going to be safe. _Please_ Lily. Let him have this. This could be the last time we'll get a chance to do this." James said earnestly. Lily faltered. Maybe…just maybe…

Sensing an opening he quickly added: "Frank and Alice agreed to take Neville."

"James…" She sighed wearily and tugged lightly on her hair. She hadn't seen Alice and Frank in almost a decade. And little Neville, why she hadn't seen him since he was a babe. Some godmother she was. It would be nice to see other people for a change. A day without worry. It seemed almost too good to be true. She looked up into James pleading hazel eyes. She knew how much he missed his friends even if he didn't voice it. Sirius couldn't risk being seen coming near the house and Peter and Remus didn't know where the house was. Even letters were a risk.

"Okay…okay, James." She relented and the blinding smile that lit up his face held some of the cold dread beginning to seep into her bones at bay. For now.

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**A/N: The next chapter and onward will be strictly from Harry's P.O.V. unless I otherwise specify.**


	2. Upon the Horizon

A/N: I still can't get rid of this idea so I've decided to continue it. I'll be alternating between updating this story and my other one.

**Warnings: Violence, gore, and language **

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Chapter 2: Upon the Horizon

_July 31st, Quiddich World Cup_

Harry sat languidly on the soft bed in his parent's tent. He slid his pale fingers through the silky sheets and sighed in appreciation. He may not have a particular interest in Quiddich but he appreciated the trouble his father had went through to give him this. Even he couldn't deny that the place was brilliant despite his rather neutral view towards the sport. Wizards really went all out for Quiddich judging from the glorious gold walls that lined the stadium and brightly lit trails. It was a sight to behold. It reminded him of the magnificent stadiums he had seen pictures of in the book his Mum gave him about Merlin and the Dark Ages. He inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring. Even the air smelled different here. Everything was so foriegn yet fascinating. There was so much to see.

And the people! There were so many. Harry had never seen so many people gathered in one place. But that wasn't saying much considering the most people he had ever seen in one place was at dinner with his Mum, Dad, Brian, and Joanne. Idly, he wondered if that was normal. Probably not. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and jumped off. They had had to get there a week early to get a decent space to set up their tent and even then they were still nearly ten miles away from the stadium. It didn't matter. Not really. Harry padded over to his Mum's trunk and pressed his thumb to the small square over the lock. It clicked open and he shoved his hand inside to pull out _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch. He flipped through his mother's old school book trying to decipher how to change a mouse to a needle. His mind began to wander as he remembered the giddy excitement he had felt when he and his brother and sister had learned where they would be going. It wasn't so much the Quiddich, though that was kind of intriguing, but the chance to finally, to _finally _see the outside world and that was the best gift his Dad could ever give him. He suspected his Dad also knew that too, even if he often seemed emotionally stunted. Harry smiled at the thought. He had the best Dad in the Universe.

Brian and Joanne could also enjoy the gift even if the only thing on their minds was Quiddich. Harry wasn't stupid. He doubted they would be able to do this again for a long time, if ever. So he would enjoy it while it lasted and pretend to be just as enthusiastic about those people on the broomsticks as his brother and sister. He didn't want to hurt his Dad's feelings after all the trouble he went through. It was nice to finally see his Dad smile. He burrowed his nose back in the book and stared intently at it. Harry dug around for the practice wand. The old man that looked like Merlin in the muggle storybooks his mum used to read to him had given it to him. What was his name? Dumb-something. He giggled at the thought and wondered if the man suffered from name calling in his childhood. His hand slipped over smooth wood. There it was! He tugged it out from between the pillows and brandished it at the trunk. A few sparks shot off the tip singing the pillows. His eye's widened and he hurriedly flipped over the singed pillows so the burn marks wouldn't show.

Harry glanced guiltily around. Hopefully his Mum wouldn't notice. He turned back to the worn book and mouthed the spell to himself. _Abeo Murtis. Abeo Murtis. _He nodded to himself and picked up the bright red wand. Balancing the book carefully on his knee, he lifted his wand and slowly, but surely, copied the movements depicted in the book. Half moon to the right and then flick. Half moon to the right and then—

"Hey, Chubby!" A boisterous voice called out obnoxiously. Harry furrowed his eyebrows in irritation. Could he not get any peace in this place? Cocking his head to the side he determined that it was coming from outside the tent. As much as he enjoyed the outside, Harry had found that the peace and quiet that existed in his home was lost to these people. They were down right rude! He shook his head and continued practicing.

"Yeah, you! That's mine. So give it back before I make you." The obnoxious boy sneered meanly. Harry twitched in annoyance. Did that boy ever shut up? He wondered if his Mum would get mad if he told the boy to shut it.

"I-it's not y-yours! My Daddy bought it for me." Harry's head snapped up at the voice. That was Brian's voice brimming with false bravado. And if he heard correctly it sounded as if he was on the verge of tears.

"Ohh his _Daddy_ got it for him! Don't lie, you baby. It's mine so hand it over." There was a pause. "Why are you so pale? You look like a vampire." A couple of other boys started laughing and crowing at the obnoxious boy's remarks. A fierce fury erupted inside him. He snatched up his practice wand and slid off the bed. How dare they try and ruin Brian's day. Besides, nobody got to tease Brian but him. With that thought in mind, he stalked angrily to the tent flap and shoved it open.

The cool breeze hit him full on the face, ruffling his hair even more. Oh well, it was a lost cause as far as he was concerned no matter what delusions his mother may hold. Emerald eyes scanned the area surrounding their tent in search of the familiar form of his brother. About ten meters away he spotted his target. Near an old oak tree stood his brother surrounded loosely by several boys about Harry's age. The obnoxious boy was a gangly boy with large ears and bright orange hair from what he could see. As he neared he could see the orange colored hair kid was holding a doll resembling one of the Quiddich players competing. Harry narrowed his eyes. If he recalled correctly that was the one Dad had bought Brian as a souvenir. He quite clearly remembered insisting that it was indeed a doll despite Brian's protest's that it was an action figure. Ha. As if. It was a doll and dolls were for girls. Harry had gotten a nifty pair of binoculars that could replay up to one hour of the events it captured.

"Aww…is Chubby the Vampire gonna _cry_!" The obnoxious boy crowed while waving the toy above Brian's head. Harry increased his pace and gripped his wand tightly. He came to a halt several paces away from the boy and jabbed him rather roughly between the shoulder blades.

The boy spun around to meet Harry's dark viridian gaze.

"Whadd'ya want?" He said rather stupidly in Harry's opinion. But really what else could he expect from a boy picking on someone half his age.

Harry contorted his face in a smile that was anything but friendly. Eye's glinting in anger he remarked candidly: "Nice doll. Aren't you kinda old to be playing with those things?"

"It's not a doll, vampire. And it's not mine." Harry arched an eyebrow at the orange colored hair boy's response. Did he not know any other insults?

"Really…?" Harry drawled. "I seem to recall you shouting quite loudly that it was yours. Are you a _liar_ now?" The other boy flushed dark red all the way up to the tips of his over large ears. What an ugly boy. He threw the doll roughly on the ground and lifted up his large fists.

Harry pointed his wand at him and shouted: _"Velico Auris!"_

The boy's ears started twitching and flapping uncontrollably as soon as the jinx hit its mark. The other boys roared in laughter and wandered back to their tents.

"Stay away from my brother or I'll _make_ you." He snarled; sparks flew off his wand and singed the other boy's ugly maroon jumper. Harry bent down to pick up the fallen doll and went to his sniffling brother. He picked him up by the arm and dragged him back to their tent.

"Nice jumper by the way. " He tossed over his shoulder at the other boy. He slipped through the tent flap with his brother without waiting for a response.

Harry led Brian to the foot of his parent's bed and sat him down. Fat tears of humiliation began to drip down Brian's face. He lifted his pudgy hand to wipe halfheartedly at them, snuffling loudly. Harry pressed the doll into his little brother's hands and turned toward his mother's trunk. He opened it to the compartment where his Mum had stored his stuff. His hand reached blindly into it for several minutes before he found what he wanted. He shoved the item into his pocket and wandered back to sit next to Brian. Harry tugged a corner of the soft sheets loose and gruffly wiped his brother's face.

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate frog. He tossed it on to his brother's lap and picked up the book he had been reading and continued where he had left off. Several seconds later he heard the crinkling of the wrapper.

"Thanks, Harry." Brian said looking at him with admiring eyes and a chocolate covered grin. Harry smiled at him and then proceeded to glue his eyes back to the book. Several minutes' later Harry's ears were met with the loud snores of this brother. He sighed in exasperation. Really, there was absolutely no peace in this place.

* * *

A few hours later, Harry sat perched in the same spot thoroughly engrossed in the book he was reading. A loud yawn worked its way out of his throat as he stretched his arms tiredly over his head. He winced as his neck cracked loudly in the silence. He wondered where his mum was. And now that he thought about it wasn't she supposed to be watching Brian? She was probably still having that strained conversation with the Weasel Woman. She mentioned going to Hogwarts with the other woman. Perhaps the Obnoxious Boy belonged to the Weasel Woman? They had the same color hair. If that was so then it was no wonder she looked so tired. Joanne was probably safe with Mum. And Dad…he had said something about meeting some old friends of his and bringing them over. Harry felt kind of wary about that. But Dad seemed to trust them so that was good enough for him. He would just have to suck it up. 

Mum also said something about meeting up with somebody. Alice, Frank and Neville. Whoever they were. He honestly didn't care. The only people that mattered were Brian, Joanne, Dad, and Mum. And since Joanne, Dad, and Mum weren't here only Brian mattered. Only Brian. He swept he gaze over his sleeping baby brother before settling himself vigilantly toward the door. Don't go out side the tent his mother had said. Don't go out and don't let anybody in unless they say the secret code. No one goes out. No one comes in. He curled his milky fingers around the wand firmly. No one comes in. No one goes out. He had gone out. He wasn't supposed to go out. He'd have to confess to his Mum, but he wasn't sorry. Brian was in danger. He wasn't sorry. He never would be sorry.

Dusk was beginning to fall he noted absently. Harry hoped his Mum, Joanne, and Dad would be back soon. It wasn't safe. That's what his Mum had always said. The outside was dangerous. He clutched his wand tighter and strained his ears for any noise heading toward the tent. Harry wondered if his Mum was going to bring back her friends. He hoped not. He didn't like it when too many people got close to his family especially his little brother and sister. Those boys earlier just proved his point. It wasn't safe to let other people near his family. They were just mean and cruel. Loud rambunctious laughter echoed through the air and Harry jerked up wildly. His back pulled ramrod straight. Instinct kicked in and he hunched his body to make himself appear smaller.

"Brian. Wake up!" He whispered in panic as he shook his brother awake.

"Huh?" Brian mumbled sleepily as he wiped at his eyes. He lifted his hazel eyes to meet Harry's eyes searchingly.

"Get under the bed, Brian, and don't come out until I come and get you. Promise." Harry said quietly. He tugged at Brian insistently. "_Come on._"

Harry pushed him until he was completely under the bed before he turned to the tent flap. The noise was growing closer. He squeezed his eyes shut in concentration and flicked his wand.

"_Nox!"_ He murmured and the lights went out with a whooshing sound. Harry crawled behind the desk near the entrance to the tent and waited.

"…And then the bastard comes out of no where and whacks me straight across the head, so I bounce back to my feet and with my awesome, fantastic, reflexes I spin on my heel and-"

"If you have such 'awesome, fantastic, reflexes' you wouldn't have gotten hit in the first place, Padfoot." A dry voice remarked.

"Shut it, Moony! I'm trying to tell a story here to Prongs." Another male voice laughed.

"You're just as much as a prat as I remember, Sirius." Harry twitched as he heard his Dad's distinct voice but restrained himself from running to the door. The secret code. No one comes in. No one goes out.

"So you excited about the game, James? Tomorrow morning. I can hardly wait." A different quieter voice murmured.

"Yeah, tell me about it. I've been waiting for ages." Dad.

"Sirius has been saving for good seats since they announced the World Cup was going to be in England."

"Hell yes I have. Like I was ever going to miss this." They were getting frighteningly close. Harry curled himself into a smaller ball. _Expelliarmus. Expelliarmus. Expelliarmus. _

"Everybody scored Top Box, right? Remus? Peter? James?"

"Yes, Sirius."

"Yeah. Cost me an arm and a leg too!"

"James?" Harry could practically feel his Dad's embarrassment. "Uh…actually—" There was a rustling and the tent flap parted. No secret code. No one comes in. Harry lifted up his wand and gathered as much as his magic as he could to fuel the spell. No one comes in Mum had said. No one comes in.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!" _He cried out as he pointed his wand in the direction of the dark silhouettes. There was a loud yelp and a dull thunk as a heavy body hit the floor.

"Bloody hell!" "James!"

"_Motherfucker_, what was that? Where's my wand, damnit!"

"No wait, Sirius!" There was a loud clang as something was knocked over. "Merlin! Harry — It's me…uh, damn…what was it? Gellert._ Gellert, _Harry!"

"Grindelwald?" The tired sounding voice asked incredulously. "Ouch!" Another voice cried out.

"Oh, Merlin! _Lumos." _Light flooded back into the lanterns casting the tent in a warm glow. Harry crept out from behind the desk warily as he took in the figures surrounding his Dad.

"Dad?" He questioned cautiously, deliberately shifting his body away from the bed. There were three other men with his Dad around the same age. One had dark black hair like his Dad only more tamed. The other man he immediately associated with the tired sounding voice. He had raggedy clothes and a couple wisps of gray in his brown hair. The last man was plumper than the other men were and was significantly shorter.

"Yes, Harry. It's me, Dad. Come here, son." His Dad said tiredly, but there was a hint of shock and pride in his tone. Harry shook his hair out of his eyes and slowly approached his father. Harry's dad closed the gap between them and set his hands comfortingly on his shoulders. Fear pumped wildly in his heart. Strangers. _**Danger**_. His muscles trembled in preparation. The other men were staring at him curiously.

"James…?" the man with the long black hair questioned. He was focusing intently at Harry with dark blue eyes. Harry pressed closer to his dad. He felt cold and clammy. Too many people.

"Guys, this is Harry. My oldest." Dad said with pride. He unlatched Harry from himself and gave his son a soft shove in the other men's direction. They were only about a meter away from now. He froze and looked at them with wide eyes.

"Harry this is Sirius, Remus, and Peter. Remember them? They used to come over to our house a lot when you were smaller." He heard his father say distantly. Blood pounded loudly in his ears and the fine hair on the nape of his neck stood on end. _Never trust anyone_. His mother's voice echoed in is mind. _Never trust anyone that isn't family._ The tired man smiled kindly at him. The black haired man thrust his hand out toward Harry.

"Hi, Harry! I'm Sirius." He said brightly. "Wow, kiddo you sure have grown since I last saw you." He laughed as he looked down at Harry happily. Harry stared at the outstretched hand.

Harry flicked his eyes back to his dad in confusion. A sorrowful look passed over his dad's face. Harry scrunched his face up in befuddlement. Why was Dad sad? His dad made a gesture with his hand. _Oh. _Harry lifted his hand and shook Sirius's hand awkwardly. The other two men grinned at Harry.

"Hiya, Harry!"

"Hello, Harry. It's good to see you again."

"Hello." Harry forced out quietly. "It's nice to meet you." They didn't seem dangerous. In fact they looked kind of goofy. Maybe, just maybe, his mum had made a mistake. Maybe not all people were bad. Harry backed away from the men and headed to the bed.

"Brian, it's just Dad and his friends you can come out now." He said soothingly. He reached under the bed and grasped his brother's arm to pull him out.

"Brian?" His Dad exclaimed incredulously. He turned to Harry. "Why isn't Brian with your mum?"

"He was but she was talking to the Weasel Woman so she let Brian play in the Circle. Some kids started picking on him so I made them stop and brought him back in the tent." Harry answered nervously. His dad's mouth tightened around the corners.

"I see." He closed his eyes briefly before turning to Brian. "Are you okay, son?" Brian ducked his head in shame.

"Yes, Daddy. Harry made them go away." He said softly.

"Good job, son." Harry heard his dad say to him. He grinned at the praise.

"The Weasel Woman?" Peter piped curiously. Sirius gave him a blank look and shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, the lady with the red hair." Harry clarified. "Isn't that her name?" Realization dawned on Remus's face and he chuckled in mirth.

"I think he's talking about Molly Weasely formerly Molly Prewett."

"She got married to Arthur?" His Dad said with mild shock. "Huh, never would have imagined that."

Harry tuned them out and wandered over to the wooden chair near the tent flap. He sat stiffly on it while the adults continued their conversation. Dad was introducing Brian to his friends; Harry made sure to keep a sharp eye on them. They didn't seem too bad but Harry was never one to disobey Mum's orders. He wouldn't disappoint her now. A sharp tingle ran beneath his skin. His eyes widened in alarm and he snapped his head to look at the tent entrance. Someone was coming. He looked at his dad. Dad was laughing with Brian sitting on his lap. His friends surrounded him, waving their arms around in animated gestures. A carefree smile was stretched across Dad's face. Harry had never seen him smile like that. The footsteps were getting louder and dad didn't seem to notice. He opened his mouth to warn him.

"Gellert!" A bell like voice called. Mum. Harry jumped up from the chair and stumbled over to the entrance. The tent flap opened and he barreled into her. Harry wrapped his arms tightly around her hips and pressed his nose into the soft fabric of her robes. The scent of vanilla and lily blossoms wafted through his nose.

She laughed lightly and ran her fingers through his hair. "Hello, dear. Were you good while I was gone?"

Harry stiffened slightly before blurting out, "I went outside."

He saw her eyes darken in disappointment and his stomach rolled. He hated to disappoint Mum. She tried so hard to make them happy. Harry dropped his eyes to the ground. Absently, he noticed three pairs for feet behind his mother; they must be the people his mum mentioned. He could feel the heat rising to his face.

"It wasn't his fault Lily. Some brats were bullying Brian so Harry went to stop them." Harry's head jerked up at the sound of his dad's voice.

"James…" She warned. Mum was getting mad.

"No, Lily. You need to relax. Harry didn't do anything wrong. He went outside, so what? You know that ward circle Flamel made for the children to play in is fool proof. And in addition to that, this whole area circling the tents is warded to hell too."

"Yeah, Lily. This section is prolly the highest warded area surrounding the pitch." Sirius piped up.

His mum seemed to wilt before smiling down apologetically at Harry. "I'm sorry, Harry. But sometimes I worry so much about you."

Harry smiled in relief. He didn't make his mum too upset. "It's okay mum, it was my fault. I shouldn't have gone out."

"Geez, Lily! I wish my kid was that well trained. It takes Alice and I ages to get Nev to confess to anything." The man behind his mum laughed in bemusement. Harry flinched at the noise. He forgot about the other people in the room. The man had neatly parted brown hair cropped short and a mustache that looked as if some small creature decided to settle itself in his upper lip. There was a short wispy blond next to him with tired features and a boy around his age, through quite a bit plumper. They all shared the same milky white skin his family had; a side effect of living without the sun. Relief flooded through Harry at the sight of Joanne cradled in his mum's arms.

"Yeah, Lily spends a lot of time trying to drain out the mischief in Harry," James said with a strained laugh. His eyes flickered to his mum before settling back on Frank. Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. Was Dad mad at Mum?

"'Fraid that didn't work with Neville. The dear's always out causing some sort of trouble." Alice waved her arm in the boy's direction in exasperation. The boy smiled shyly at everybody.

"Hey, Harry why don't you, Brian and Joanne go play with Neville? Get to know each other." Harry's dad said his hazel eyes bright with life. Harry glanced uncertainly at Neville.

"Oh that's a marvelous idea. They should have grown up known each other," Alice exclaimed brightly.

"Such a shame," Lily sighed.

"We can go catch up in the sitting room. I saw firewhisky there too!" Sirius swaggered over to the sitting room. Harry watched the grownups file into the other room with a sense of dread. His mum tossed a reassuring smile his way.

Neville turned his way and smiled cheerfully. "Hi, Harry."

Harry stared back at him warily. Neville shared the same features with his father. Round face and dark brown hair. Stranger.

"Hello," Harry mumbled. He grabbed the book he was reading earlier and settled himself near the door his mum and dad went through. He studiously ignored the other boy and buried himself in the musty book. Eventually the boy got the hint and wandered over to Brian and Joanne. Harry watched them carefully before deciding that Neville wouldn't be any harm.

"Wicked! Is that the limited edition one?" He heard his brother's awe filled voice exclaim.

"Yeah, my dad bought it for me for my birthday. Isn't it great?" Neville boasted. Harry ignored the twist of jealously in his stomach. So what if Brian wanted to play with Neville? It's not like he cared anyway. He pressed his nose deeper into the book and blocked out their voices. If he listened hard enough he could hear his mum's voice mingling with the other adults' voices.

"So Crouch is Minister, eh? Who would have thought?"

"I did!"

"Honestly Frank! Yes, we know you thought Crouch would be Minister."

"Ha! Frank was actually right 'bout something. Hell has officially frozen over."

"Shut it, Black. You're just jealous you can't work under Minister Crouch. Who's your boss? Bones, right?"

"Jealous? Please, you insult me. Amelia is great. None of that slave driving Crouch does."

"He's a bit of a fanatic."

"Fanatic? Crouch is a great man. He knows how to run things. He knows what he wants and he gets results."

"Still…I think he's kinda extreme. Don't you think? I mean the Moscow Incident couple months ago it—"

"It was necessary. This is war. Sometimes we have to do things that go against our morals. It's just the way it is."

"I hardly think that was necessary. In fact, I think it was far from necessary."

"See, Lily, you've always had this problem. Too kind for your own good."

"You know what Frank—"

"Well, how about those Chuddley Cannons, eh?"

"Smooth, Sirius."

"Oh shuddup, Remus. Come on guys, let's not fight."

"Sorry, Lily."

"It is a pity about Crouch's son, though."

"Yeah it really tore him up. Hasn't been the same since."

"Crouch's son?"

"Yeah, the kid went missing several years ago. Aurors never could find a body.

"Prolly cause there was nothing left after they were through with him."

"James!"

"Well, it's the truth."

"Ever since then Crouch had been on a war path against Deatheaters."

"How horrible."

"Yeah…"

"The Dark Lord had been quiet lately."

"Where did you hear that?'

"No where; just an observation. It's odd."

"Think he's planning something?"

"Goodness, don't speak of such things."

"Learn to live with it, Alice. You're not in your little cocoon anymore. This is how things are. We haven't got time for coddling."

"Remus!"

"Sorry…I've been feeling strange of the late. Please excuse my tone, Alice."

"No worries. We've all been stressed."

"Dumbledore is thinking about opening Hogwarts during the summers."

"Really?"

"He thinks it's too dangerous for the villagers in Hogsmeade. They'll be the first Voldemort wipes out if he attacks Hogwarts."

"Surely you don't think You-Know-Who would try and take over Hogwarts?"

"Things have changed. It's a possibility."

"I'm tired of talking about this. Far too dreary. How are the children?

"Well…"

Harry's eyes grew heavy as he listened to his mum's vice detailing one of Joanne's temper tantrums. His bones felt like lead and the chair was so comfortable. Before long he fell into the loving embrace of sleep.

* * *

He awoke to his dad's hands gently shaking him awake. It was still dark outside but he could hear the bustle of people moving outside the tent. 

"It's time to get up. C'mon! Its Quiddich time!"

"Ugh…s'too early." He attempted to mash his face back on the pillow. He heard his dad's deep chuckle.

"Nope, no time to delay, kiddo. We're going to have so much fun." His dad griped him by his arm and tugged him out of bed. In a daze, he pulled on his clothes and joined his family in the sitting room. Dad grinned brightly at them all.

"Guess what? We got top box!" Dad waved the golden tickets around in glee. Brian whooped and threw his arms around Dad. Harry blinked in confusion. Top box?

"Isn't it great? Sirius surprised me with them." He is eyes were crinkled in happiness as he gazed at Harry expectantly.

"That's great, Dad!" Harry said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. His dad seemed satisfied though and he engulfed Harry in a hug.

"Happy birthday! Ten years old, huh?" He smiled down at Harry. His eyes were clear of any worry.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" Mum and Brian chorused. Harry beamed at them. Today was going to be the best day ever. His dad slung an arm over his shoulders and led him outside.

The air was filled with laughter and excitement. The tents were decked in a multitude of colors ranging from the brightest florescent green to burgundy. Wizards and witches of all shapes and sizes trudged uphill toward the brightly lit stadium. Harry gaped in awe at all the people. A strange mixture of fear and excitement churned in his belly. Quiddich wasn't so bad after all. The trail to the stadium was lit with bouncing balls of light. They playfully skimmed the tops of people's heads and twirled about. Harry cautiously brushed his fingers across one. It sent a spark through his fingers and he pulled his arm back with wide eyes. His Dad chuckled.

"It's a modified form of the Light spell. Brilliant, huh?" Harry batted at his dad's hand when he tried to ruffle his hair. A plethora of languages filtered through his ears. Who knew there were so many different types of languages? He stumbled over a rock only to be caught by the scruff of the neck by his dad.

"Careful." His dad laughed winking at him. The golden stadium came into view much to Brian's delight. He was babbling to his mum about the upcoming match. By the time they reached the stadium Harry's legs felt like they were made of marshmallow. They were led up the winding stairs until they reached the top box. Harry slumped into the soft seat as the commenter's voice rang through the stadium.

Harry stumbled sleepily into his dad. He couldn't believe the match had lasted so long. Dad seemed to think that was a good thing. Sometimes his dad was just plain odd. He wrapped his robe tighter around him. It sure was cold for a summer night. He shivered. He hated the cold. Everybody was brimming with energy; he could hear their loud recounts of the game. He grunted as a harried looking man bumped past him.

"Hey! Watch it you prick!" Sirius called out to the retreating man. Harry smiled tiredly at him. Lazily, he lifted his eyes to the sky. The half moon glowed brightly down at him.

"Look! It's a birdie," Brian exclaimed. Harry twisted his neck to see a raven swooping languidly across the stadium.

"Yes, it's a bird, Brian," his mum laughed.

Harry leaned against his dad's side. He was so tired. Remus wasn't looking to good either he noticed absently. The older man was pale and sickly. He wondered why. Remus had looked fine earlier.

"Alright, Remus?" Peter questioned with concern.

"Yes…I'm fine. I've just been feeling a little under the weather. No idea why." Remus rubbed his eyes wearily.

"Where's Frank and Neville?" James craned his neck around.

"Oh, Frank went to take Neville to get some more souvenirs." Alice said but her mouth was pinched and her eyes kept darting toward the sales stands. "I'm sure they'll be alright."

Harry looked at the merchandise for sale is awe. Piles upon piles of objects were stacked on wobbling table as seller's attempted to sell their product. He saw a leather bound book titled _Brooms through the Ages: A Guide to the Beginnings of the Modern Broomstick"_. He reached up to pull on his dad's sleeve; a shiver ran down his spine. Something was wrong. The air felt like it was charged with electricity. Miniscule sparks flickered in front of his eyes.

"James?" Lily asked cautiously. She tugged Joanne and Brian closer to her body. Harry felt the beginnings of fear coiling in his belly. Sirius was murmuring something into a strange device. He looked worried.

"Is something—"

The ground rumbled beneath their feet and Harry's world exploded in chaos.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the delay but I've been busy with schoolwork. Anyway, next chapter is where the action starts. Then there'll be a time jump. I hate writing child!Harry. 


	3. There Was Hell

**Chapter 3: There Was Hell**

"The wards are falling!" A lone voice screeched into the night.

The stadium erupted in screams. The fluttering sparks grew in size until they were roughly the size of a sickle. The balls of light glowed brightly before erupting in an array of color. Harry stumbled into his father, he gazed wide eyed at the scene laid before him. Magic was heavy in the air. It pressed ruthlessly against his skin; tangible in its fury. Harry clung tighter to his father. The shouts were deafening. He squeezed his eyes shut in a vain attempt to block the scene from his mind. Vaguely, he heard his dad shout something. Witches and wizards roughly pushed past him as they scrambled toward the exit. He cried out as something hard smacked into his arm. James clutched his hand tightly and shoved his way through the crowd and into an abandoned Quiddich memorabilia shop. Harry stumbled inside and was met with the pale figure of his mother. His brother and sister lingered near her with wet eyes. Sirius was fiddling with the strange device he had earlier. Peter fidgeted near him. Remus was nowhere to be seen.

"Damn!" Sirius growled. "The receptors out. Too much wild magic around. It's buggering up the Signal."

"So we're on own." Lily clutched Brian and Joanne closely to her.

"Looks like it. Listen, we better get the hell out of here. They might be coming soon." Sirius glanced warily around.

"Surely you don't think it's them…?" Peter's eyes darted worriedly to Harry.

"Dunno. Best be cautious." Harry shivered at Sirius's words. This was a bad idea. He should have known. Everything had been great now everything had gone horribly wrong. So horribly wrong. James's face was pinched fear and his hand trembled on Harry's shoulder. Lily made a strangled noise under her breath.

"Lily…"

"Shut up, James." She snapped. To his misery, Harry saw his dad slump his shoulders as his face twisted in guilt. He pulled Harry closer to himself. Confusion and fear warred inside Harry. He hated not knowing what was going on. Inside the shop the sounds were muted but he could still hear the roars of the crowd outside. Terror gripped his heart at the thought of going outside again.

"C'mon." Sirius went out first, wand held tightly in an underhanded grip.

"I'll go up ahead and clear the way." He nodded at them. Grimfaced, he disappeared into the night. Harry shivered. It was so cold. He hoped Sirius would be alright. He seemed like a nice man. James opened his mouth as if to say something; he shook his head and turned toward the door.

"Are we going out?" Harry glanced at the door and twisted the hem of his red jumper.

James jerked his head positively and gripped Harry's shoulder in an almost painful grip.

"Harry 'n me will go out first. Then you guys follow in 'bout a five minutes. This way—," He shot Harry an unidentifiable look. "Uh, it'll be better this way." James steered Harry around and slowly swung open the door. Harry twisted his head around to give his family one last look. Brian in his too small trousers and Joanne's messy mop of ginger curls. His mum's oddly frail posture. He didn't want to leave. His dad called his name sharply. But he did. He turned around and took his first step into the black of the night.

* * *

The noise level seemed to rise about ten decibels as soon as he exited the safety of the shop. His dad's large had clung to his in an iron grip. People were running around in disarray. Every few seconds Harry would see a figure in a loud red robe dash across the stadium. They looked about as confused as the civilians. Aurors, he thought belatedly after watching several dozen pass him. 

Their robes flapped around like the wings of stranded birds as they darted around in befuddlement. He heard a snort of disgust. Harry looked up to see his dad giving the men in red a look of pure loathing.

Harry was jerked away from the dazed Aurors as James pulled him through the crowd yet again. He could hear panicked voices rising and falling though the air like a swarm of bees. He wondered if his family would ever be whole again. As they neared the center of the field Harry could make out the different conversations more clearly. The people seemed calmer as they got nearer and nearer the exit. A plump woman with a string of pearls wrapped around her neck was arguing fiercely with a rather sickly looking Auror.

"Honestly, which one of you imbeciles thought it would be a grand idea to have only one exit in the entire stadium. I tell you in my day…"

Harry's eyes widened in horror. There was only one exit. He twisted around and saw the gaggle of witches and wizards clumped up behind him. No wonder they were so twitchy. James cursed loudly and spun around to face the plump woman and Auror.

"What do you mean there's only one exit," James hissed. Two spots of color had risen high on his cheek bones.

The aurous huffed. "As I've been telling the Lady, the only exit is across the field." He gestured across the field. "Right there. Only one, sir."

"Why the bleeding hell is there only one?"

"Security purposes, sir." The man gave his dad a dismissive glance and turned back toward the woman.

James's face contorted in fury, he turned around and tugged Harry after him. Harry followed him obediently. He had never seen his dad so furious in his life. He could hear James muttering curses under his breath. Every so often he would see his dad glance back quickly before heading forward again at a faster pace. Harry struggled to keep up. There was a stitch in his side that was smarting something fierce. He gasped for breath. He wondered where Mum, Brian, and Joanne were. Shouldn't they have met up with them by now? He began to turn around to see if he could spot them.

"Don't look back, son." His dad pulled him roughly forward.

"But—"

"Listen. Do not look back." James's face was chalk white. His hazel eyes were bright with guilt yet determined. "Don't look back no matter what happens."

Harry nodded and forced himself to look forward. He wouldn't disobey. He looked up resolutely at his father.

"Yes, sir." James smiled sadly at him before hardening his features and pulling them into the crowd. They were nearing the exit. Only several more meters and then they were free. Excitement bubbled up in Harry as the exit loomed closer. Soon this nightmare would be over. After they got out of the stadium then they could find Mum, Brian, and Joanne. Then they would have dinner and Joanne would make a mess of her carrot mash and everything would be perfect. He grinned. And then—

He grunted softly as he knocked into a woman in purple robes. "Sorry, ma'am. I wasn't watching where I was goin'." Mum said it was always good to be polite. She didn't respond. He craned his neck up and opened his mouth to apologize again. Perhaps she hadn't heard him. His eyes widened as he saw her. Her face was drained of color and her mouth gaped. Opening and closing wordlessly as she stared into the night sky. Harry looked up at the sky. Nothing was there only green shape left over from the fireworks. He studied it. Albeit it was rather morbid, but he didn't think it warranted her reaction.

"Dad, what's that?" He gestured up at the sky. James glanced up distractedly. His eyes bulged in horror.

"Wha--?" James snatched him by the arm and dashed toward the exit. The plump woman from earlier was knocked ruthlessly on her back as his dad shoved desperately through the crowd. Harry flinched as an ear ringing scream pierced the air.

"The Dark Mark!"

"Oh, dear Merlin, help us! He's here!"

More screams and wails joined the first one in a symphony of horror. Harry had never heard anything worse in his life. What was going on? His dad looked like a caged animal. James held his wand out aggressively. Harry watched in awe and fear as his dad shoved and blasted viciously at anything that got in their way.

Fire raced up his arm as James desperately dragged him bodily toward the exit.

"Hurry up, Harry!" James snarled. His eyes were bright. Half mad and crazed with fear. Harry whimpered quietly as his arm was pulled even more roughly. There was a brief lull. Smoky fingers slithered across the quarter moon. The gentle glow of the moon flickered and was extinguished.

"Come out, Come out! I am near. Don't pout. Auntie Bella is here!"

And everything went to hell.

Harry gasped as he was suddenly lifted up. He was swung up into his father's arms and then they were running. Harry clenched his eyes tightly and concentrated on the flashes of red decorating his eyelids. A man screamed somewhere to his left. Shrill and furious. _Oh, please, let it end._

He didn't dare open his eyes. Dad would keep him safe. He didn't doubt it for a second. He could hear the loud thudding of his dad's heart. Fast like the rabbit Joanne caught wandering their garden. Or maybe it was his. Thump. Thump. Thump.

A bright flash of light penetrated the thin skin of his eyelids. James arms disappeared and his back met the unforgiving dirt. His head banged harshly on the ground. Harry cried out in pain. The wails of despair echoed around him. He jumped to his feet just in time to avoid being trampled by a herd of people. Unsteadily, James rose up nearby. Relief flooded through Harry as he met his father's eyes. The panic eased back.

The exit was only several paces away. They would make it. Harry raced to his dad. Tired eyes focused on his emerald ones. Together they fumbled and shoved through the hysterical crowd.

_"__Avada __Kedvara__!"_

The mass surged toward the exit. A spike if fear stabbed through Harry's stomach. His grip on his father's hand loosened under the barrage of people viciously pushing. No. Not after they'd come so far. A spindly man pushed him down. His sweat slicked hand slipped out of his father's hand. Pain flared in his hand as the man who shoved him jumped over his prone body and dove through the exit.

"No! Harry! Please, not my son!" Through his blurred vision he could see his dad clawing desperately through the throng of witches and wizards only to be shoved further back.

"Please! Harry!" James broken shouts when on unheard. Harry pushed himself up after several failed attempts.

He looked around in dazed confusion. He couldn't see his dad anywhere. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat. Mum said to ask an adult when he got lost. He swung his head around until he saw a flash of red sped past him. Auror.

"Wait, sir!" He snatched a piece of the man's heavy robe. "I can't find my—"

"Get off me, kid," The man snarled and yanked his robe back. He took off without a backward glance.

Harry blinked in disbelief. Apparently his mum was wrong. Huh.

Blood pumped hotly through his veins. Oh, Merlin, what was he supposed to do now. Mum never told him what to do in this type of situation. His bones ached and he was so tired. He just wanted to go home. He paused. Wait. Exit. That's what his dad had said. Go to the exit. He darted out of the way of a stocky man and spun around. Just in time to see a shimmery substance stretch itself across the exit.

A black hooded figure leaned casually against the tall column framing the exit. It twirled its wand and shot off a devastating array of black, purple, and silver curses every time someone got too close. Harry flinched in pure horror as an unfortunate man took the brunt of one of the spells. The man paled as the curse sped towards him. Black smoky tendrils surrounded the man's head before it combusted in a gory splatter of grey and red. The body fell to the ground twitching before falling still. The hooded figure laughed. Harry ran. Something wet plashed onto his face. He didn't dare stop to see what it was. Flashes of mocking grins and pales faces contorted in grotesque expressions of fear fluttered around his peripheral vision. His legs felt like they were made of lead. Every breath sent ragged shocks of pain through his lungs. In the distance he could see the ruined remains of the Quiddich shop they had hid in earlier. All that remained was a misshapen black lump that resembled a burnt marshmallow.

_"__Mary had a little lamb__"_

Harry twisted around. His heart felt like it was lodged somewhere in his throat. He hoped it would go back to where it belonged. He would hate to choke on it. He looked nervously around the rubble.

_"Little lamb, little lamb"_

"W-who's there?"

_"Ma__ry had a little lamb__"_

He licked his cracked lips and squinted into the dark. The random flashes of light did nothing to improve his night vision. A particularly bright flash of red illuminated the area in a film of crimson. There that was better. Cautiously, he took a step forward. Balancing on the tips of his toes he stretched up. His throat tightened. What was that?

_"Its fleece was white as snow"_

He tripped over a charred beam of wood. Pieces of glass and other debris dug cruelly into his shins and knees. His breath came out in sharp gasps. _Oh, God, no. No. No. No. _But there it was. Amidst the rubble splayed out carelessly was his sister. He'd know that hair anywhere. Harry pushed himself up only to fall back down. His stomach rolled unpleasantly. Crawling, he closed the distance between himself and his sister. Or what was left of her. And promptly emptied his stomach.

_"And everywhere that Mary went"_

His throat burned horribly. Harry gagged as the bitter stench of blood and other bodily fluids met his nose. She was supposed to be safe. Safe. All of them were. Now they were gone and he didn't know where they were. Gone where he couldn't follow. His mouth twisted bitterly. Not like that was new. He dug is fingers into the moist earth. He didn't even want to begin to fathom what it was wet with. Not now. Probably not ever. So here he kneeled beside the ruined body of is baby sister. Battered and worn. Mum was wrong. She couldn't fix everything. She couldn't fix anything. Not now not ever.

_"Mary went, Mary went"_

Dully, he noticed that the strained voice singing the muggle rhyme was coming from the hunched bundle near him. He pondered telling the figure to shut the hell up but thought better of it. The rocking person seemed rather insane. He stared intently at the ground. Joanne was dead. He had failed. Failed in the worst possible way. Something wet splashed on his hand. It wasn't raining. Several minutes later he realized he was crying.

_"The lamb was sure to follow"_

"Just…just shut up. Shut the hell up, okay?" He croaked hoarsely. The bundled of ragged cloth shuddered.

It lifted its head up jerkily and the tattered black hood fell back. Long ropes of muddy brown hair framed a gaunt face. Skin pulled tight over bone and papery skin. Slowly it lifted up its head and Harry was met with a pair of amber eyes. Wild and feral. Harry flinched violently back.

The woman had something cradled in her arms. Harry felt the bile rise in his throat when she saw what it was. Joanne's severed arm. Almost tenderly, the woman, no creature, peeled a strip of flesh from the arm and tossed it into her mouth. It groaned pleasurably and closed its eyes. Its tongue darted out to lick away traces of blood at the corner of its mouth. Harry felt frozen to the spot. He took in the curved yellow claws protruding from the tips of its fingers. They were coated heavily in a dark tacky substance which Harry identified as blood. His sister's blood.

It snapped its head up and barred its crimson coated fangs. Its eyes were alit with pleasure.

"Want to play, little boy?"

Harry stumbled back. Fear pumped through his body wildly. The beginning of hatred stirred in his soul. This thing had slaughtered his sister. She was just a baby. His heart thudded furiously and his magic cried out for blood. Vengeance.

The thing rose up from its crouched position. It rolled its shoulders and threw its head back. Dark bristly hair spouted over its body and its head contorted. The jaw elongated and its fangs grew in size. It fell to the ground. Muscles convulsing and twitching. His desire for revenge and self preservation battled. He turned and ran.

He pumped his legs faster as a long howl met his ears. Cold sweat broke out on his body. His last thought before he was knocked onto his back with the force of a speeding car was that it wasn't a full moon.

He screamed as he felt something snap inside him. Desperately he turned his face away from the thing's putrid breath and dripping saliva. Harry thrust his arms up and attempted to push it away from the tender skin of his neck. Its fur felt rough and dirty under his fingers. _Someone help me._ He thought hopelessly. But deep down he knew no one would come. They had all gone. And he couldn't follow. He never could. Its claws scrapped viciously through the skin on his shoulder. It tore through flesh and muscle like butter. He could feel rivers of blood flow down his arm in a sticky mess.

Something heady and warm flooded through him. The burning hatred rose within him. Hot and vengeful. He snapped open his eyes and was met with the blood thirsty stare of the werewolf. He hated this thing with every fiber of his being. It ruined everything. It was nothing but a filthy murdering monster. It didn't deserve to live. It killed Joanne. Slaughtered her and ate her.

With an agonized shriek the werewolf was thrown off of him and slammed into the rubble of the shop. Harry rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up with his elbows. He winced as he saw the shredded mess that was his shoulder. Emerald eyes darkened in pure loathing. It was evil and he wanted nothing more in his entire life than to see it dead. Shoulder screaming, he trudged toward the whimpering heap. He wished he had his practice wand. Not that it would do any good. It could only do low level spells.

Harry spotted a broken piece of wood. That would do. The screams and snarled curses in the distance became muted. Nothing else mattered. Trembling like a leaf he approached the creature. The sun was rising in the distance. The clouds dispersed and the moon faint. Harry noticed none of this. The creature didn't look so fearsome anymore. The thick matted hair had receded. It looked human. Harry wasn't fooled. It was a monster. It deserved to die.

Confused amber eyes met his as he stood staring stoically at it, cloaked by the shadows.

"Are you okay, son? I-I haven't the faintest clue how I got here. Everyone's dressed rather strange don't you think. Do you think you could tell me where I am? I need to get back to my daughter. She's quite the book lover. So if you could—"

It wasn't human.

And with that final thought Harry stepped out of the shadows. He watched its eyes widen in horror.

"Don't call me son."

And he closed the distance between them and slammed the piece of wood into its chest with the strength he could muster. He didn't feel an ounce of regret. Its mouth opened and closed wordlessly. A fresh coat of blood painted the things lips. It made a soft gurgling sound. Harry watched on dispassionately. It wasn't human.

Loud clapping broke him out of his daze. Slowly he turned to face the noise.

"Oh, bravo, Harry. Bravo."

He lifted his deadened eyes to meet the cat like crimson eyes of Lord Voldemort. He was cloaked majestically in robes of the finest material. Black as the darkest night. An aura of pure power swirled lazily around him. Just as black as the heavy robes that adorned his tall frame. His chalk white face stretched in to a grin dripping with malice.

"I've waited so long become acquainted with you, Harry. So long."

Harry said nothing but he couldn't suppress the shiver of terror that racked through him at Voldemort's voice. Voldemort barred his teeth and spun his wand between his fingers as if he had all the time in the world. Sickly green sparks shot off the tip. Harry flinched back.

"Your parents didn't want me to see you, Harry. How cruel of them, no?" He said with mock pain. "What say you, young Potter? Was that not cruel?" He tsked lightly at Harry as if disappointed with his lack of answer.

"Answer you betters, Potter!" A heavy lidded witch spat. Violet eyes glared furiously at Harry. Harry couldn't help but think that she seemed far more feral than the werewolf.

"Calm yourself, my dear Bella." Voldemort shot her a steely glare.

"Forgive me, Master. I meant no disrespect." She fell hard to her knees and crawled up to the Dark Lord. Her forehead knocked against the muddy earth.

"Do you wish to punish me, Master?" She whispered huskily.

"Perhaps later. But I think you're right. Young Potter needs to be taught a lesson in manners."

Harry's stomach plummeted. That certainly didn't bode well for him. Not in the slightest. It was becoming difficult to breathe. He took a step back. The fog that had fallen across his mind had lifted and it took the cool calm with it. Harry missed it dearly. His heart started to race as the reality of the situation settled in. He was going to die. He turned and ran. Hopefully they wouldn't notice until it was too late that he had gone.

_"__Cruico__!"_

In the milliseconds before the pain descended upon him Harry supposed it was rather foolish of him to hope they wouldn't notice. A scream ripped its way out of his throat. _Oh, make it stop. Anything was better than this. _He thrashed flopped like a fish on land. At some point his voice left him. Something popped. He paid it no mind. The world had dissolved and all he could see, think, hear, and feel was agony. Liquid fire raced up his bones and seeped into his blood. Thousands of daggers dove into his flesh. _Make it stop._There was a surprised shriek and then absolute bliss. The torture stopped.

He twitched and rolled pathetically on the ground. Fine tremors worked their way through his body. It hurt but not nearly as much as it had when the curse was on him. A pitiful whimper escaped him. He wanted his Mum and Dad. He clenched his eyes shut in a vain attempt to keep the hot tears from pouring. He sniffled and curled himself into a fetal position.

"_Awww_…is ickle baby Potter crying? How sad. Does he want his filthy mudblood mummy?"

He cringed away from the black haired witch. She looked positively venomous. Her lips were pulled back into a snarl and her eyes flashed in hatred. With a growl she launched herself toward him and wrapped her left hand around his neck. His eyes bulged as his air way was ruthlessly cut off.

"Not so brave now are you, you little bastard?" Darkness was creeping across the edges of his vision. He wondered why she was only using one hand. Harry clawed weakly at her hand.

"Enough." A serpentine voice hissed. Harry sucked in a lungful of air greedily. He rolled onto his knees coughing raggedly.

"But, my lord, he—"

"And I said enough."

Harry paid them no attention as he continued to suck in gasps of oxygen. Voldemort was barking something to someone. Harry shakily got up. He shot a quick look at them. They weren't looking at him. He shook his head at his stupidity and ran in spite of it.

"_Crucio__."_A bored voice intoned. And he hit the ground in a swirl of agony. That was quick. He arched and twisted around for several seconds before it was released. He lay panting in the mud. Near him the plump Lady lay with wide unseeing eyes. Her pearls were long gone and her robes didn't look nearly as pretty as they did earlier. What a shame he thought. So this was the end. Abandoned and alone. The muck burned as it seeped into his wounds.

He twisted slowly onto his back. It was daylight. The sun was just beginning to rise. A new day. He smirked at the irony. His eyes slipped shut and he took a deep breath. In and out. The place was a blood bath. Strewn body parts were thrown carelessly across the Quiddich field. It was already imprinted into his mind. Would they find his body? Or would he be lost amongst the shredded remains of the other people who had died today? Nothing more than a fading memory soon to be forgotten. He sighed and cracked open his eyes. And there illuminated in the dawning sun stood Lord Voldemort in all his dark glory. He smirked down at Harry.

"Now Harry I must admit that wasn't the brightest idea. I'm afraid you get that from your father. Bless his soul." His cruel red eyes watched his every movement. Mocking. In that moment Harry had never hated anyone more. Not even the werewolf.

"I hate you." He whispered. He lifted his emerald eyes up. "I really fucking hate you."

"I know. That's why I have to kill you, you see. Can't have you growing up with foolish notions of revenge on your mind now can we? Yes, best put you down now." He lifted his wand and directed it at Harry's forehead. The tip glowed a sickly green. Brighter and brighter. Harry watched it mesmerized. Such power. If only he had been stronger. Smarter. Books. For all his reading they didn't do him any good in the end.

Voldemort's eyes crinkled in malicious mirth. "It's for…_the greater good_."

In the distance he could hear the crazy witch cackling with glee. "Bye, bye, baby Potter!"

"_Avada __Kedvara__!"_

And the last thing he saw was Bellatrix Lestrange's charred right arm waving at him. The green light rushed at him. The scent of death filled his nostrils and then all was black.

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter should be up tomorrow. Its a short interlude. **


	4. Dealings with the Devil

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_**Power can be taken, but not given. The process of taking is empowerment in itself.**_

_**--Gloria Steinem**_

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**Chapter 4: Dealings with the Devil**

_"Inherently, human beings are selfish at heart. When it comes right down to __i__t you can bet your magic that they'll be looking __out __for themselves first and foremost. Count on that and you'll never be shocked. Remember that, my son."_

_"How can that be true, mum? Some people fight for their families. That's not selfish. They die for their country or cause.__ They fight and die so others can live."_

_"So fighting and eventually dying for someone other than your self will always be honorable?__No matter what?__"_

_"I…yes, I think so. They're not doing it for themselves. They do it for others. That can't be bad._

_"I never said selfishness was a negative quality__. It's okay to be selfish sometimes, Harry. __Why do you think it__'s bad__?"_

_"People get mad when I-someone is selfish. They don't like it."_

_"You shouldn't care what other people think."_

_"Easier said than done."_

_"__Touché__."_

_"You never answered my question, Mum."_

_"Ah, yes. Pardon me, __dear;__ I tend to get side tracked. __So__ selfishness.__ Is it bad__ No. No, I don't believe it is. And I'll__ tell you why. But first let's start out with why everyone is selfish.__You say that fighting or dying for something you believe in or care for is not selfish. But I think it is. In __fact,__ I think it is one of the most selfish things one can do. __Self-Sacrifice."_

_"Yes, Mum. __But why?__ You're helping other people. That's good. It's what you and Dad do so it can't be bad."_

_"No one is infallible, my love. Remember that."_

_"Yes, Mum."_

_"Now say a man decides to turn a new leaf. He says he wants help save people so he's going to embark on this dangerous mission.__To help people.__ Let's say he's a spy."_

_"For __Voldemort__?"_

_"Yes. Let's say he's going to spy on __Voldemort__. He's says he's doing this for the greater good but deep down he knows it's a lie. He wants redemption. Oh, he'll save lives in the process. No doubt about that. But we all know he's not doing it for them. He's selfish. He does it for his own gain. __He doesn't care for anyone's wellbeing but his own. __And that is pure selfishness."_

_"What about someone fighting for their cause?"_

_"I'm glad you asked that, Harry. Let's think up another scenario. Ah, I got one. So there's a young witch that's just graduated from Hogwarts. She's never been what one could call pretty. A plain Jane they call her. She had mediocre marks. __Never anything special.__ The only thin__g__ that could be said of her was that she was the most organized witch to walk the earth. Now, a couple of years back her sister and elder brother were__ murdered. __The last of her family.__ The brother was put under the Imperious Curse and commanded to rape his younger sister and then slice her throat. They left him alive. He stabbed himself in the heart. __Terrible curse.__ Avoid it at all costs. __The young witch, we'll call her Jane, feels lost. No family and the chances of getting a husband look slim. She hears about this resistance fighting the Dark Lord. She joins and goes on to become the best strategist they have. She saves hundreds of lives with her immaculate planning. She is selfish. Why, you ask? She's not truly fighting for the innocent people. She just wants to belong. If she had been prettier, more popular, had a happier life she probably never would have joined the resistance. She is selfish because the only reason she is saving lives is to feel like she is a part of something bigger.__ She wants to feel important.__"_

_"What about d-dying so your family could live?"_

_"That is one of the most selfish things one can do. __Let's form another scenario. Who do you think should star in this one?"_

_"Err…two __muggles__."_

_"Okay then. There's two middle aged __muggles__A man and a woman.__ They've been married since they were nineteen, fresh out of school. They have two daughters__. Both have moved away from home to start lives of their own. A pack of wizards attack their house. __Muggle__-baiting.__ They torture the man. Rip his skin off his back, pop his eyes, and castrate him. Filthy __muggles__ shouldn't be allowed to spawn they'd said. His death was slow. The wife, they did unspeakable things to her. One of the wizards lifted his wand to deliver the killing blow. __The Killing Curse.__Avada__Kedvara__. The husband couldn't bear the thought of his wife dying so he __crawled__ his mutilated body over to her and intercepted the curse. He died with a look of relief on his face. They left the wife alive.__ He was selfish. He couldn't stand the thought of being alone, of living without his wife. He took the easy way out and decided to die first. The wife lost her grip on reality and lives in an isolated mental ward. __Grief stricken and __violated in the worst possible way__"_

_"Do you think they were selfish, Harry?"_

_"…Maybe."_

_"I would never want anyone to die for me. I'd rather they lived for me."_

_"I would want that too."_

_"Now, selfishness isn't always bad. Why without it there would be no happiness, love, and all the wonderful things that exist in our world because no one would take a chance. If everyone did everything for others no one would be happy. __Selfishness is the root of all pain and happiness. __What do you think?"_

_"I think—"_

_"Harry! Lily! Are you two up there? It's time for dinner. I made __chicken. __All by myself!"_

_"We'll finish up later. Now let's go see what your father's burnt."_

* * *

At 11:00 p.m. Harry James Potter awoke.

The gentle embrace of darkness released its grip. Wisps of half formed thoughts and a swirl of colors bled teasingly through closed eyelids. Reality would no longer be denied.

The first thing Harry noticed as he returned to the realm of consciousness was a searing pain on his forehead. It felt like a blundger being repeatedly smashed into his skull. His memory felt foggy and rather similar to Swiss cheese. He blinked rapidly to dispel the black dots floating across his vision.

He lifted himself up only to drop back down as a flood of nausea and vertigo swept through him. The bitter taste of bile rose steady in his throat, harsh and unyielding.

Harry gasped laboriously for several minutes as he waited for it to subside. The rolling waves of agony pulled back reluctantly.

Casting his gaze around, Harry noted that he seemed to be in a small hotel room by the look of it. A rather cheap one too. Suspicious looking stains decorated the white walls and a grubby carpet blanketed the wooden floor.

Near the creaky cot he was resting on stood a scratched up desk. Other than that, the room was quite barren. Harry pushed himself off the sad excuse of a bed. He threw one last glare at the dirty sheets before wobbling over to the desk. Bones feeling as if they'd been infused with pudding, Harry floundered for balance.

A quick glance toward the tiny window told him that night had already fallen. He wondered what day it was. Surely he couldn't have slept that long.

Harry licked his chapped lips. The sharp tang of blood met the sensitive receptors of his tongue. He couldn't remember how he got here. This wasn't one of the safe houses his dad had told him about.

The beginnings of panic seeped through the cracks of doubt. Dear Merlin, where was he?

Dad said if something were to happen the emergency portkey would be automatically activated. It would take them to a safe place.

This cramped room looked nothing like the pictures Mum and Dad had shown him of the safe house.

Nothing like it.

A cheap plastic alarm clock ticked softly on the rickety desk. Harry swallowed hard. His heart beat began to pick up speed.

_Tick-Tock_

His family wasn't here.

_Thump. Thump._

Nobody was here.

_Tick-Tock.__ Thump. _

He was alone.

_Thump. Thump. __Tick-Tock._

Maybe forever. Now wasn't that just grand?

He slid down to his knees, head bowed. His mussed dark locks flopped into irritatingly in his eyes. Mum was supposed to trim his hair. He bit the inside of his cheek. The soft moonlight danced lightly across the dirty room. Not nearly enough light to illuminate it, just enough to keep the dark at bay. The scent of mould and rotten food wafted through his nose.

He paid it no mind.

They were gone. They would have come. They should have come. She promised she always would.

The flimsy jumper collected bits of grime as his forearms slid down to rest on the dusty wooden floor. The world spun. Time continued. Evermore. Harry languidly lowered his head until his left cheek rested on the cold floor. Glazed red-rimmed eyes stared into nothing. Sweat, blood, and mud slicked his hair in snake like tangles. Muddy blood. Mudblood. His lips twisted. Sharp spikes of his hair poked at his eyes demandingly.

Several pencils and scrapes of paper littered the foul carpet.

Harry prodded them with his fingers until the paper and gnawed pencils were into piles. Carefully he stacked the tatter white scraps in a pile and aligned the pencils in a straight row,

He shoved them toward the wall in two neat piles.

A soft strangled noise erupted from his throat and he curled his fingers into tightly clenched fists. Pinpricks of pain dully awoke in his hands as his nails carved half moon crescents into his palms. He wanted to cry but found the tears just wouldn't come. His eyes felt dry and itchy no matter how many times he blinked. Harry couldn't help feeling as if he had committed an act of betrayal. Dad always hated traitors.

He wondered if Dad hated him now. Would have. Should have. Could have.

Perhaps he did.

He kind of hated himself right now.

His joints popped loudly as he pushed himself off the floor. In short efficient moves, he tugged the sheets off the cot. He snapped them to rid the sheets of debris and dust. Harry carefully pulled each corner of the sheets and tucked them securely under the mattress. He sat stiffly on the side of the newly made bed. Unnaturally still. His dull green eyes focused steadfastly at a splotch on the wall. It kind of looked like a dead bird.

Harry wished he had his old practice wand. His hands felt strangely alien without it. He shut his eyes slowly.

"_Want to play, little boy?"_

An explosion of air rushed out of his lungs and his back tightened. He didn't want to remember. Jerkily, he reached over the desk to grip the clock. In a white knuckled grip, Harry brought its bland face to meet his. 12:49 p.m. The second hand ticked mockingly forward.

Time went on.

He placed it firmly back in the exact same spot it had been previously sitting. Innocent as you please. Harry hated it.

Now that he thought about it he seemed to hate a lot of things. From Voldemort right down to that stupid clock.

That crazy witch too. How could he not hate her? Cruel violet eyes and wild tangles of black.

Must be nice to be insane.

1:00 a.m.

My, how time flies when you're having fun.

Idly, he pondered getting up and seeing if the door was locked. But what good would that do? He had nowhere to go.

He was tired.

The crooked door grinned at him from across the room. Its brass knob glinted dully. Mechanically, Harry rose from the bed and briskly crossed the cramped room. The clock sneered at him. Harry ducked his head and turned away.

As he stepped away from the spare orderliness of the bed and desk and approached the hunched door something lurched deep within the pit of his stomach. Tall and imposing, despite its weathered frame, the door struck something within him. A web of cracks and stains painted its body.

It was now or never. Cautiously, Harry raised a thin arm and grasped the cool metal knob. The knob glowed a soft red. Harry yanked his arm off of it with a hoarse cry as a white-hot bolt of energy flared up his arm.

With a deafening crash, the door exploded outward sending Harry sprawling into a heap on the floor. He threw his arm over his eyes to block the flying bits of wood raining down upon him. Shakily, Harry lowered his arm and caught his first glimpse of the person who knocked down the mighty door. His savior? Or executioner?

Only time would tell.

In the door way stood a stooped man of average height. A dark brown cloak was draped over his shoulders. The figure's pock marked face was clearly visible under the feeble light. Dark hair was neatly combed giving the man a distinguished aura. Harry scrambled backward until his back hit the wooden bed frame.

"Hello, Mr. Potter." The man said lazily. Harry's eyes flickered over to the wand held casually at the man's side. Every few seconds he would tap it against his thigh in a sharp staccato rhythm.

"Who're you?" Harry managed to gasp out hoarsely. He struggled to his feet again. His earlier headache was beginning to make itself known again. Joy.

The man's eyes followed Harry's every movement with an intensity bordering on creepy. There was an odd gleam in the man's eyes. He almost seemed to be studying Harry.

Sharp looking teeth glittered in the dim light and a fanatical grin pulled across the man's face. The man was silent for so long Harry thought he wouldn't answer. Harry jumped when the man lifted his wand. He flicked it in the direction of the door. As if they were magnets, all the splinters of wood from the ruined door darted to the door frame. Like a jigsaw puzzle they reassembled neatly back into a door. With another flick the door slammed back into its frame.

The man turned toward Harry and gave him a considering look. "Rookwood."

"What?"

"My name. Augustus Rookwood. Sir, to you, brat." Rookwood regarded Harry with calculating eyes. Utter fascination colored his features. An unhealthy amount of fascination, if Harry said so himself.

With one long stride, Rookwood crossed the room. In graceful steps, he circled Harry. His wand was clutched tightly in his hand as he assessed Harry.

"What--?"

"Shut up." Harry glared coldly at the man's snide comment. Rookwood began to mutter under his breath as he continued to prowl around Harry. He never got too close, Harry noticed. He wondered why. Harry twitched. Rookwood took a step back. Dark eyes focused on Harry.

"Do you like to win, Mr. Potter?" Rookwood's lip pulled back in what Harry assumed was a smile. It looked like he had forgotten how. The muscles of his face pulled and twisted awkwardly. Harry pulled back a step in caution. Rookwood seemed to find some sort of amusement in this.

"Well, boy, do you? Do you like that rush of fire that sweeps through you as you utterly annihilate you opponent? The thrill of knowing unspeakable things? Intoxicating isn't it?"

Harry edged toward the window but he couldn't help recalling with vivid clarity the bone deep satisfaction he had felt as he drove the splintered wood into the creature. The creature that had took everything from him. Its blood bubbling forth from its mouth like a wine fountain. The look of pure shock and horror.

Rookwood grinned knowingly at him.

"Don't deny it, boy. You know it's true." Harry lifted his head to look the man in the eye. He tensed his body as he looked upon Rookwood with distrust and reluctant intrigue. Harry stood silent for several long minutes, his thoughts a whirl of the stench of death, defeat, and devotion. To whom he didn't know. Mum. Joanne. Brian. Dad. Himself? Or perhaps something darker. A devotion to bring down all those who had wronged him. Ruined him.

"Maybe. Maybe I do." Harry managed to force out quietly. He couldn't help but feeling as if he was damning his soul to hell by admitting it. Oh, well. Dad always said sinners had the most fun.

Wand still in hand, Rookwood took a step forward. His creepily intense gaze was firmly in place. Harry noticed the older man's focus was latched unblinkingly on somewhere above his eyes. That was rather…odd to say the least.

"Then perhaps we might be able to come to an agreement. Something mutually beneficial." Rookwood's face was blanked of emotion except for a disturbing gleam in his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Sir." Rookwood corrected calmly.

"What?"

"What do you mean, _sir_." Rookwood said sharply. Harry gave him an incredulous look. "I'll let it go this time. As for your question, I believe I can help you with your situation."

A surge of fury welled up in Harry. "You don't know anything about my situation," he spat.

"Cease your petulant behavior, boy. No one cares for nor respects the whining dribble of children and the quick tempered."

Harry scowled at him but remained quiet.

"Do you hate them?"

Harry didn't have to ask who he was talking about. Muddied flickers of amber eyes and blood caked claws seared through his brain. The Lady's unseeing eyes and pearl less neck. The screams of the desperate. Black phantoms that left nothing but death and despair in their wake.

_"Bye, bye, baby Potter!"_

"Yes." Harry focused on the brightening night sky.

"Yes. I do." He whispered. "I really do."

Black eyes burned in vicious glee. Harry sunk his teeth into his bottom lip till he tasted blood. They were all gone. Gone away. It was that monster's fault.

There was a soft rustling of cloth that penetrated the eerie silence. Rookwood's shadow loomed imposingly over him, extinguishing the feeble light the moon provided. A small coin with a strange insignia was thrust under his nose. Harry leaned backward from the foreign object. His nose burned unpleasantly.

"Portkey."

Harry eyed it but didn't touch it. It was a sliver coin. It glinted beckoningly at him. Upon its surface a pentagram was etched in deep grooves.

"We can make them reap what they've sown."

Mouth dry, Harry swallowed roughly and reached out to grasp the coin. There was a tug behind his naval and the room disappeared in a blur of color.

At 2:07 a.m. Harry James Potter sold his soul.

* * *

With a loud grunt Harry landed sprawled on his back. He glared sullenly at Rookwood. The man hadn't even stumbled. Harry yelped as he was grabbed by the scruff of the neck and yanked to his feet.

"Come." Rookwood was already several paces ahead of him, moving at a brisk gait. Harry silently followed. He kept his eyes firmly on the other man. If friends could betray then who knew what a stranger could do.

Harry sure as hell didn't want to find out.

Deciding not to give Rookwood anything to curse him about, Harry obediently followed the man down the narrow white halls. Harry shivered. Sterile white walls loomed above him with unnatural blandness. He shook his head lightly. The excessive white made is eyes burn.

The long hall seemed to go on forever. He noted dully that there were no doors or windows. Perhaps they were underground? Rookwood didn't seem to care that they had been walking for over an hour and there was still no door in sight. Harry didn't care to remind him.

Really, what was he doing here? This went against everything he'd been taught. Don't trust anyone. Don't trust strangers. Live. But then again, it also fit in so perfectly with what he'd been taught. Protect. He couldn't protect them when it counted but maybe he could make sure it never happened to anyone else. This man, as odd as he was, was dangerous. Danger equaled power.

Harry wanted power.

He'd be better than them. Make them hurt. Just like they hurt his family. They didn't deserve it. They were supposed to live. Be happy. But they were gone now. Nothing could be done about that. _They _were still out there though. Those animals. All of them running free while his familiy's blood painted the earth. Filthy, murderous, animals.

So, maybe this did go against what Mum taught him. But Mum wasn't here now. She was wrong when it counted the most. Harry was here though. Heart still beating strongly. They weren't here but he was and that made all the difference.

A hard hand gripped his shoulder tightly. Harry stiffened and snapped his eyes up to meet the eerily pleased face of Augustus Rookwood.

"We've arrived."

Suspicion wormed through Harry at the man's tone. If that was what he looked like when he was happy Harry would hate to see him angry. Harry blinked. He recalled having his shoulder clawed by the werewolf rather vividly, if he did say so himself. All he could see were four angry red lines disappearing under the neckline of his shirt.

"Werewolf bites and incisions made by their claws are notoriously difficult to heal completely. Be grateful that's all you have as a reminder." Rookwood said dismissively. He turned to the bare wooden door that had somehow materialized and rapped his knuckles against it in a complicated pattern. Harry attempted to memorize it but quickly lost track of Rookwood's movements.

Harry gnawed on his lip briefly before managing to grunt out a quiet thank you. He didn't fancy being mutilated for life. He'd seen pictures of what werewolf victims looked like. The scars he had could have been extraordinarily worse.

"Don't thank me, boy. It wasn't me who healed you. If it was me I would have left you with the scars." Rookwood sneered. He sounded almost bitter. Harry eyed him curiously.

"Don't be a pathetic little…ah, what do you call it, ah, yes, do not be a little bitch, Rookwood." A clear lilting voice rang out. Sometime during their conversation the wooden door had swung open. Framed by the door stood a petite woman with soft brown curls and sky blue eyes. Her face was kind featured but her eyes glinted mockingly at Rookwood. Full lips were pulled up in a smile that looked decidedly insincere to Harry.

She turned her head to Harry and something strange flittered across her features before it was wiped away as quickly as it came. "Hello, Harry. It was me that healed those nasty wounds you had. Quite a feat, if I do say so myself. Now if you'd let me see how they healed up? I used a new formula in the balm—"

Rookwood's mouth drew up into a thin line. "What are you doing here? This is strictly between the Minister and me. I don't recall asking for your assistance in this matter."

"Well, I must apologize, Rookwood, but I'm afraid the Minister does not feel the same way, hence my presence." She pasted on a simpering smile and gripped Harry gently by the elbow and led him inside.

Like the endless hallway Harry and Rookwood had walked through, the room Harry was led into was starch white. A simple hard backed chair sat rigidly in the center of the room. In front of it was an imposing mahogany desk with sturdy legs. Seated behind the desk was the most boring looking man Harry had ever seen. Dressed in a crisp pinstriped suit and a formal black robe, the man seemed almost muggle to Harry. The older man stared at Harry with flinty eyes. Harry stared back.

"So you've brought him." The man addressed Rookwood, ignoring Harry's presence completely. Harry attempted to suppress his irritation from showing on his face.

"Yes. As you wished. He is in prime condition. Though, if I might say, I believe Unspeakable De—"

"I'm afraid Unspeakable Rookwood has missed a couple of key points. Mr. Potter was horrendously injured when he arrived on the premises. I had to pull all the stops to bring him back to stability." She smiled prettily at Rookwood. "It must 'ave slipped your mind, no?"

"Yes. It must have. Thank you so generously for reminding me, _mademoiselle_." Rookwood locked eyes with the woman and smiled pleasantly.

"Madame." She corrected icily.

"My apologies. It slipped my mind. You know how my mind is these days."

"Of course." She turned to the man at the desk. "Here are his status reports. I hope it meets your approval."

She stalked out of the room without a backwards glance. Harry watched their exchange slightly unnerved. If that wasn't tension then he didn't know what was.

"Mr. Potter. Have a seat if you would. We have much to discuss." Harry jumped slightly at the man's voice. Unlike the man's appearance, his voice had a strangely captivating quality. Harry settled himself on the chair awkwardly. The man reached for a stack of parchment situated on his right.

"Your family was eliminated as of July 31st, 1990 at 2300 hours by the Dark Lord's servants." Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He didn't want to hear this. Blood thudded loudly in his ears.

"Your brother, Brian Michael Potter, died at precisely 21:13:37. Cause of death: The Killing Curse. Merciful." The man recited monotonously. He tugged the leaf of parchment from the pile and slapped it in front of Harry.

Harry gazed wide eyed into the blank hazel eyes of his brother. There he lay. Sprawled out with a look of horror permanently etched into his innocent feature. In the background of the picture, Harry could vaguely see flaps of red robes as Aurors scrambled around trying in vain to restore order.

"Lily Evans Potter. Time of death: 22:01:15. Cause—"

Harry stood violently up, knocking back the chair with a deafening bang. "Shut up!"

"Don't talk about them. Shut up." Harry snarled out through his tightly clenched jaw. His magic roared to the surface. The chair was lifted up and slammed against the wall. The wooden desk shook fiercely under the assault, throwing the parchment across the room. The man looked caught between fear and excitement.

He smiled patronizingly at Harry. "Cause of death: Internal damage via sexual assault and blunt trauma to the cerebellum."

Harry pulled in deep gasping breaths. His body trembled. No. No. No.

Liquid fire burned through his body. He lunged bodily toward the man. Hate fueled to impossible reaches. The desk was lifted off the ground with the chair on the other side of the room and sent speeding toward the man.

A golden dome spouted over the man like a fountain and the furniture bounced harmlessly off it.

"James Potter. Time of death: 2300 hours…"

With a scream of pure loathing, Harry rammed his shoulder into the bulbous dome. His arms slid through the elastic substance. Curled fingers clawed venomously at the man's throat before Harry was thrown forcefully back by the dome. He took morbid satisfaction at the flash of fear that had crossed the man's face as he attempted to gouge the man's throat out with his bare hands.

Harry yelped as his back slammed roughly on the cold floor. He rolled quickly to his feet with an almost animalistic grace. The pain flaring through his spine didn't even register through the haze of hatred that shrouded Harry's mind.

"…death: evisceration." Harry wrapped his fingers blindly around the frame of the chair. Spinning on his heel, he smashed the chair into the protective shield with all the force he could muster. The man stumbled back as the chair came flying through the dome before it was hurled back out. The golden fountain of magic shimmered before dimming slightly in intensity.

"Joanne Mary Potter…"

Breathing harshly, Harry took another running leap at the infuriating gold bubble. His legs burned as he increased his speed. The man's tooth brush mustache and coal black hair visage loomed mockingly in from of him.

"…mauled to death by lycanthropes. Extreme loss of blood. A search for the remaining appendages is still being conducted."

Harry slid headlong into the shield, the pressure built painfully with in him.

"I said _SHUT UP!__" _Harry thought he hear something explode distantly, he couldn't be sure though, all he could focus on was the furious pounding in his ears and that man who refused to let him forget. He just wanted to forget.

Forget.

The down combusted in a shower of silver and gold and the man was shot into the air like a rag doll. Vaguely, Harry heard the dull _thunk_ of something impacting against a solid surface.

His legs gave out from under him and the world turned on its axis. He slammed his palms on the cold floor and emptied his stomach. Acid burned through his mouth. Sour and bitter. Dry heaves worked their way though him and his eyes streamed at the sensation.

Oh, God, they were dead.

Coughing and spluttering, Harry didn't notice the man's approach, He stared dazedly at a pool of his own vomit. Dead.

"I am Minister Bartemius Crouch and I need your help."

Harry inhaled shakily. His head ached something horrible.

"Why…why should I help you?" He breathed. "Why?"

He wanted his family back. He wanted his Mum to tell him everything would be alright. Nothing was alright anymore. He was surrounded by strangers. He hated this new world where nothing was as it seemed.

"Together we can purge England of those vile beings. No child will ever have to suffer as you did. I'll make sure of it." Driven, Harry thought belatedly. That was what made the Minister's voice to alluring. Promises of getting something done. Action.

"What could you possibly need my help with? There are grownups. People more powerful. Experienced." Harry scoffed lightly under his breath. He swallowed the saliva building in his mouth. He kept his head down, gaze firmly on the floor.

"Don't underestimate yourself, Mr. Potter. As for what you could do, well, you see, we've recently developed a new program. Its prime objective is to aid us against the Dark Lord. I'm sure you have noticed that our Aurors just aren't efficient enough for this task."

Harry snorted derisively. Crouch ignored him and continued.

"It's relatively experimental, you see. The program it, ah, _creates_ the perfect soldiers. Perfect for the current situation."

"Killers." Harry croaked out. He fastened his gaze to his smooth mostly unmarked hands. Pale and pink.

"Perceptive, aren't you, Mr. Potter? But, yes, you would have to destroy another sentient being. I won't lie. But you'll be saving people. Innocent civilians. Think. Do you want anyone to bear the burdens you do? Children?"

Harry remained silent.

_It lifted its head up jerkily and the tattered black hood fell back. Long ropes of muddy brown hair framed a gaunt face. Skin pulled tight over bone and papery skin._

"Of course, I must warn you you'll not be the same after you've completed your training. No. You'll be a completely different person. The training process, we've found has some side effects. Nothing permanently damaging, though. You needn't worry." Harry could see Crouches shiny black shoes near his head from his position. He listened.

_"Cause of death: Internal damage via sexual assault and blunt trauma to the cerebellum."_

"There will be memory loss. You probably won't even remember who you are."

_22:01:15_

He didn't want to remember.

"It'll change you. Permanently. You'll be somebody else entirely. You can help others. Save lives. Innocent lives."

Harry rose up from his kneeled position and locked his eyes with the Minister's.

Dark emerald met grey.

"I'll be anything you want me to be."

_"I never said selfishness was a negative quality. It's okay to be selfish sometimes, Harry."_

* * *

**A/N: This chapter was originally going to be a short interlude but I cut that idea for plot reasons that's why this chapter is late. I added the dialogue scene to help get a better insight into Lily's character. Her character greatly influences how Harry reacts to certian situations. I wanted to do something different with her. Usually, she's portrayed as a pure, self-sacrificing character who can do no wrong, but I wanted to expand on her character qualities. I happen to like flawed character quite a bit. So we'll definitely be seeing more of Lily through Harry's memories. I have a lot planned for her.**

* * *


	5. Descending

**A/N: I've finally been able to get this chapter up. I've been trying to post it for about a week. For some reason wouldn't let me save any of the changes I made to it when I uploaded it. My paragraphs got all screwed up and strange little boxes kept showing up in the text. And to top it off I couldn't read my reviews because kept switching over to some advertising website every time I tried to look at them. So I won't be able to answer any of the question's you may have had. I'll probably answer them within the next couple of chapters. Sorry there are no line breaks. For some reason they won't show.**

**Warnings: Just thought I'd mention them again. The main plot is going to get going in the next chapter so there will be plenty of: Language, Violence, and Gore. Harry will be dark in this story.**

**Chapter 5: Descending**

"_Who am I?" Lily smiled down at him, green eyes sparkling with warmth._

_Harry gave her a gaped toothed smile and proclaimed proudly: "Mummy!"_

_She laughed in pleasure and pressed a slender finger against the tip of his nose. "Yes, love. Now who are you?"_

_Harry slid his arm across his nose and peeked over her shoulder. He eyed the cookies on the far table with interest. Lily grinned in bemusement and snapped her fingers under his nose._

"_Who are you?"_

_She looked lovingly into the eyes that were a mirror of her own. Harry scrunched up his nose before replying._

"_Harry." He smiled in childish glee._

_She gazed at him in pride. "Harry James Potter. You are Harry. The heir to the Potter line. My first born son." She pressed her cheek to his head. _

"_And one day you will be great. Harry, my son," she breathed. "You will be great and you will live. You will live. I swear it on my magic. You will live."_

_Department of Mysteries 7__th__ floor, 1995_

Clear liquid sloshed round and round inside a glass cup. A sharp twist and the water rose dangerously high against the rim. Up and up. It folded in on itself and slithered down. Nowhere to go but down.

Harry gripped the glass tightly and knocked his head back. The wooden chair thudded firmly on the back of his skull.

Bloody hell was he bored.

For the next three hours he had jack shit to do. Normally, he had no problem amusing himself. Books, spells, experimenting, he had a plethora of things to do. Normally, that is. This wasn't a normal day.

Normal days involved waking up at precisely 3:00 am. His dietary supplement crap was served at 3:15 am. Shower at 3:20 am. Physical training at 3:30 am. Magical training at 9:00 am. Break at 1:30 pm. Whoop dido. History 2:00 pm. Endurance at 6:00 pm. Dietary supplement crap again at 8:00 pm. Delicious. No really. Execution of Magical Creatures at 8:15 pm. Break at 10:00 pm. Bed time at 11:00 pm.

Fun stuff.

Damn Rookwood and his retarded schedules and fucking lists.

He exhaled loudly; the air whooshed softly out of his lungs. His stomach churned in a mash of fear and excitement. The cup was warm in his grip. The water bubbled violently in its confines.

"_Tempus,_" he murmured, slamming the glass on the desk beside him. 9:15 am.

Today was the day he had been waiting for. He dreamed and dreaded it. It was the day he would prove his worth and become what he was meant to be. Or it would be the day he was shoved into the dark depths of the veil.

He held no illusions. And those that did manage to creep up on him were flimsy at best.

Rookwood would take ecstatic joy in dancing over his grave. He'd probably even sing a little tune while he was at it. Apolline wouldn't be much bothered.

Harry preferred it this way.

They only cared about what would make him better. More powerful. Harry thought it was just wonderful that their interests conceded with his own.

He couldn't remember a lot about his past. Just wisps of color and half formed thoughts. He wondered if he was different. Sometimes, he wished he could remember. Just sometimes. There were times, though, that he'd get this sense of _something_. Like he was bowled over and consumed by something alien yet oh, so familiar.

Often, it was a feeling or an idea. Once in a blue moon, he'd see things. Things he couldn't remember doing. Usually, it was over in an instant. A bright flash of muddled color and shadowy figures and then nothing.

He burned for knowledge. Apolline said his curiosity would be his down fall.

Harry couldn't disagree more.

He thought it was rather hypocritical for her to say so, too.

Harry wanted to know. They thought he didn't notice their evasions. Certain topics, he quickly learned, were forbidden. But why were they forbidden? Just what didn't they want him to find out?

Because he would find out. He would make sure of it. One day he would know.

There were some things he knew with absolute certainty.

Rookwood was sadistic. Apolline was hot. Crouch was psychotic. The ministry drones were gullible. People in general were stupid. The food sucked. And last, but certainly not least, werewolves deserved to choke on a silver spoon.

Harry loathed werewolves with a passion that was unsurpassed. Even Rookwood was a tad shocked at his vehemence. He would gladly slice them up and serve them to the thing that lived on the sixth floor.

He didn't exactly know why he hated them. He just did. It was like a fact of life. Rookwood kept lists. Apolline experimented on innocent little children. Crouch secretly lusted after Fudge. Well, no, not really. But he might. And Harry hated lycanthropes.

The facts of life.

Harry deduced that he must have had some severe resentment toward the hairballs before his training. At least, that was Apolline's explanation. According to her, some residue from his previous life was still left after his behavior modification. Only the strongest was able to remain. The modification just exacerbated it to the extreme.

He slid his finger under the collar of his robe. The tender raised skin met the pad of his finger. He traced the roped scar over his shoulder and down his back. His upper lip curled back in a sneer.

Damn, he hated them.

Harry longed for the day Crouch would send him on an extermination mission. What he wouldn't give.

What he wouldn't give…

He grinned darkly. Spirits slightly uplifted, he lifted himself off the wooden chair. He arched his back and his spine popped loudly.

Maybe, if he did a good job today, he could persuade Crouch to let him have a go at the dogs. He doubted anyone could do a better job than he could. There were too many of them infesting the place anyway. Harry doubted any of those Anti-Dark Creature Acts were doing all too well. Sure it made life a little harder for the creatures but they were still alive.

Now where was the fun in that?

If Crouch was worried about the public backlash, though Harry doubted there would be any, well, he could do subtle. Damn better than the Werewolf Capture Unit. Bring back the Werewolf Code of Conduct from 1637, he said. Now that was efficiency. Those idiots on the Unit didn't know the meaning of finesse. He was versatile.

Versatile was his middle name.

Actually, he had no idea what his middle name was. Yesterday, it was Joseph.

Harry sidled up to the bookshelf on the far side of the room. It was here that he placed his favorite collection of books. Books on magical theory, philosophy, military combat, and a variety of other subjects lined the sleek shelves.

He plucked Milard Biggen's _A Full Compilation on Magical Theory _from the shelf. While he favored Gidgen's theory that there was no defined magical core in a wizard, magic just _was_, Biggen's book made for an interesting read. Though, his theories were shoddy at best.

He flipped languidly through the pages, snorting at the idiocy of some of the man's ideas.

It reminded him of that old bird Bones. His current target. She was the reason he was dawdling here instead of doing something interesting. Harry could say with certainty that Minister Crouch hated Amelia Bones almost as much as Harry hated werewolves. Ever since she had risen through the ranks of the auror division, Bones had become quite loud with her views. Too loud.

Give someone a taste of power and look what they do.

Sweeping reforms across the board she wanted. Ha! Equal treatment toward all dark creatures and education reform. Please. Her simpleton brain didn't seem to understand that they were currently waging war and had been doing so for the past fourteen years.

She honestly thought now was the time for reform? Now was the time for action. Crouch had the right idea of funding the militia and defense programs, even if Harry suspected him of being off his rocker. The man knew what he was doing. They couldn't afford a change in power. It would be a blood bath.

The ministry was weak. They didn't need Bones screwing it up any more with her hugs and kisses shit.

Let's all be one happy family. Yeah, right. Harry snorted derisively. Equality for the dark creatures. The wizarding society was chaotic and had been since the World Cup Massacre back in the late 80's. They were ruled by fear and ignorance and Bones wanted social reform. They would panic at such a change, of that he was certain.

Then, there'd be a backlash against the Minister. The pureblood supremacists would rage and wave their money bags around and the dark creatures that weren't already on the Dark Lord's side would get antsy.

Crouch would have a field day and probably fall off the deep end.

No, things were better left as they were. Now wasn't the time for change. The wizarding world had lived with their problems for hundreds of years; they could live with them a little longer. It was already falling apart at the seams; they didn't need a civil war.

Amelia Bones had to be eliminated. Soon. If left to her own devices, she would gain more followers and then killing her would be much more of a hassle.

Harry was just the person for the job. It required delicacy. This couldn't be traced back to the Minister. It was vital that the Ministry maintained the illusion of harmony. If people saw the government falling apart from the inside, well, it wouldn't be good to say the least.

Harry had no desire to see the Wizarding world fall into anarchy. He shuddered at the mayhem it would cause. They could kiss their precious Statue of Secrecy goodbye.

Lately, Amelia Bones had gotten the _fantastic_ idea in her head that Hogwarts was in need of more "social and mental development" classes. That is, she wanted those doddering fools to discuss and debate the cruelty of the world and angst about it.

She felt that the students were not "socially aware of things outside their own circle of influence and strived to remedy it." Harry laughed at the absurdity of it all. What those brats needed was to learn how to wield a wand. Besides, a little bit of hardship never hurt anyone. It'll toughen them up good and proper.

Unfortunately, Amelia was not in agreement. The children are the future!

Well, there would be no children if they didn't survive the war. Harry didn't see many of them surviving if they couldn't tell their wand from their arse. From what he heard, Dumbledore had been trying to get a decent auror into Hogwarts to teach the children defense. No such luck.

All the good aurors were out on the field and those that weren't had no desire to spend hours upon hours with a bunch of kids. They had better things to do.

Amelia would be holding a student debate at her family manor. Only the best would be selected from Hogwarts and the trade schools that surrounded it. The event was a big deal with the more financially disabled and those that didn't come from a strong linage. It represented a chance to rise higher up on the food chain.

Nobody respects the stupid and the poor.

Hogwarts was extremely selective. It only invited those who had been marked down since birth and in order for that to happen one had to come from an old family. Or they had to be damn rich.

Usually, those two went hand in hand, though.

Many of the witches and wizards in the world were not accepted into the prestigious schools of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang. They either had to make do with homeschooling from their family or sign up for a vocational school.

Compared to the other schools, their education was very lacking. None of the vocational schools offered such a variety of subjects and had teachers that were masters of their trade as Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang.

They paled in comparison. The fact that Amelia was inviting students from was vocational schools was surprising. It showed that Amelia meant business and wasn't afraid to stir up trouble to reach her goals. This didn't bode well for Crouch.

Her methods were too unorthodox and would likely cause far more trouble than they were worth. Even Dumbledore was wary of her ideas and he was all pro equality too. Or so he said.

You never know with these politicians.

Dumbledore was a conniving politician no matter how hard he tried to deny it. He was just more subtle about it. Crouch hated him, too, but he wouldn't dare try and take him down. It's not like he could anyway. Besides, Crouch didn't have the balls to go against Dumbledore.

Hell, Harry doubted anyone had the balls to go against the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

He was glad Crouch didn't want Dumbledore dead. That would mean Harry would be sent out to do the dirty work and very likely end up dead.

Still, he wasn't all too a happy about spending the afternoon at the Bones Manor. There would be students and he would have to interact with them. Listen to their inane dribble. He could already feel his IQ lowering. It wasn't exactly his idea of fun.

He pulled the invitation out of the folds of his robe. His eyes scanned it quickly. He would arrive at noon. From there he would be directed to the lounge room with the other students. There would be a quick lunch and then the session would start at 2:00 pm. It would end at 5:00 pm.

Harry groaned at the thought of spending three hours trapped in a room with at least twenty students.

What could she possibly talk about for over two hours? Did she honestly expect the students to orgasm over her little social awareness session? Harry had checked the guest list. At least half of the guests came from old pureblood families. He doubted they had much interest in equality for non human creatures. Sentient or not. Harry sighed in exasperation. The things he had to put up with.

He wouldn't have to deal with her for long if all went to plan. He shook his head.

That Bones, she was a piece of work for sure. Harry slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a tube filled with a clear, waxy, substance.

His eyes glittered in anticipation. He rolled the tube back and forth between his finger tips thoughtfully. This was going to be interesting.

The substance was of his own creation. At first glance, it looked pretty useless. It was mix of several benign ingredients that when combined became quite poisonous. The only problem was it took exactly ten minutes for the mix to properly adhere to a surface. It then took another hour for it to seep into the pores of human skin and into the blood stream.

It also was easily washed off with water, which made it pathetically easy to cure. As long it was washed off or transferred to another surface before it hit the blood stream you were good.

But if the poor sod didn't know they were infected, well, that was a whole different story.

It could be transferred from surface to surface about seven times before it lost its effect. The best part was that it was completely untraceable after it seeped into the blood. Hell, nobody knew it existed. It wasn't registered on the Potions Registry.

Amelia Bones would be difficult to approach. For all her faults, she was a shrewd politician. He wouldn't deny she had a good head on her shoulders, even if she was just plain stupid about certain issues. One needed to be quick if they were the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement.

Approaching her head on was a bad idea and would be sloppy. If she had any inkling something was up she would call the whole event off. No matter how much she preached about equality and bettering the education system, she valued her life far more. In that aspect, she was no different than any other witch or wizard.

No. Harry decided a full on attack would just be stupid. It would also be linked back to Crouch which could not happen. He hadn't been exactly discreet about his dislike of Bones. Crouch would be the first suspect. It would be the death of Harry if he allowed that to happen. He would not allow that to happen.

Harry had things to do and dying wasn't one of them.

So, he would have to go about it another way. He wouldn't approach Amelia; he couldn't afford to be seen near her. It was much too risky. When the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement kicked the bucket, and she would, it would cause an up roar. No matter how quickly Crouch got a replacement, it was inevitable the public would panic. She was a somewhat influential figure, especially to the witches. That couldn't be helped.

But if he could make it look like an accident, a freak accident with no one to blame, then maybe they could stifle the fear.

Amelia dropping dead wouldn't look good, no matter which way you painted it. She had a decent following that would try poking their noses around. They were mostly made up of muggleborns with delusions of grandeur and extremists, but they were loyal.

They would be upset.

His lips quirked up slightly. Well, maybe upset was too light of a word. Frothing at the mouth seemed like a more adequate description. They would cry conspiracy and rile up all sorts of trouble.

It was his main priority to make the incident look utterly innocuous. As innocuous as a death could be. It had to look like a random poisoning. An accidental poisoning.

Harry reached over to the drawer beside his bed and pulled it open. Slipping out the neat stack of color coded parchment, he gazed intently at them. Yes. He just might be able to pull this off.

Harry wouldn't be killing Amelia Bones. He wouldn't even be in a twenty foot radius of her.

He locked his eyes on the moving picture of a pretty girl with plaited blond hair. She beamed up at him, her Hufflepuff crest flashing in the sun. So innocent.

No one would ever suspect the girl of murdering her dear Auntie Bones.

_Bones Manor_

Stuffy old men lined the walls. Their noses flared disdainfully at any passerby's from their frames. A pruned looking wizard huffed impatiently about foolish children and clacked his staff on the carpet.

"Oh, shush, Uncle Edgar!"

Susan Bones was a happy girl indeed. She wouldn't have old Uncle Edgar frowning on her special day, no sir. She could hardly wait to tell her Auntie!

When she woke up today she had expected a day of prudish students and rules, rules, rules. How dreadfully boring. No spontaneity at all. She told Auntie so, too. Unfortunately, Auntie Amelia said she had to attend. She had an image to uphold and it would be bad form if Susan didn't show.

Ah, such was her luck.

So she had packed away her sullenness and moved forward. She couldn't let Auntie down now. Not when that horrid Crouch was making such vicious attacks against her aunt. What a horrible man, that Crouch. Didn't he understand that her auntie was only trying to help?

Apparently not.

Ever since Auntie had been promoted to Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Minister Crouch had been out to get her. She couldn't believe the nasty names he had called Auntie in the press conferences. The nerve of that man! He claimed that Auntie was trying to usurp his position as Minister.

Auntie would never do that. How dare he spread those awful lies! Her auntie was the kindest woman she knew. Auntie had no desire to rule. It wasn't in her nature. But Crouch refused to listen to reason. It was a pity her auntie had to suffer for it. When her parents had been murdered by Death Eaters her auntie had been the one to take her under her wing. Without her, Susan would have been stuck in one of the Magical Orphanages.

Yes, Susan owed Auntie a lot. She would never forget the kindness her auntie had bestowed upon her.

Susan was surprised Crouch had let her auntie organize this event. Usually, he scoffed at long term reform, preferring to focus his attention at the militia and short term action. He was a man who favored immediate results. A man of patience he was not.

Her auntie had had a brilliant idea of gathering the top students in Britain. She would invite them to the family manor and speak to them on the issues that plagued their society. Auntie hoped it would inspire them to look at the world with a more open mind. Maybe then innocent people wouldn't have to suffer under the bigotry the Ministry promoted.

Now was the time for unity.

Auntie often complained about the ignorance of children today. They just sat there and absorbed their text book and gained nothing. They merely spewed out a mass of regurgitated words. In this session, her auntie hoped to spark a debate between the students. Broaden their horizons, so to speak.

If the meeting was a success, her auntie wanted to try to get a Social Issues class integrated in Hogwarts and its neighboring schools. Or at least secure another session. Perhaps at the Ministry, if she was lucky. Her auntie firmly believed that the future was in the children and if they trod the same path as their parents the world would never change. A black world it would be. A black world.

Prejudice would continue on unstopped. Susan was in full agreement with her.

But when she had viewed the invitation list she was sorely disappointed. Most of the students from Hogwarts were ones that she didn't know all that well and the rest flat out irritated her. And to make it worse most of them were rule abiding snots. Granger, Longbottom, Malfoy, Smith, and several other nobodies Susan could care less about.

So she had donned on her silky green dress robe halfheartedly. It was tailor made at Madame Malkin's but she doubted any of her fellow females would appreciate the significance of it. She'd seen the way they dressed. Honesty, no sense of style at all!

And she was expected to entertain these buffoons? Really she had no idea what her auntie had been thinking. Or drinking.

She had dreaded having to spend a good two hours occupying the guests while auntie added the finishing touches on the dining hall. She expected the students from the other schools would be no better. Snooty and boring.

She remembered sitting on the firm high-backed chair politely greeting the guests as they whooshed through the floo.

"Hello, Ms. Granger. Won't you have a seat?"

"Honestly, Susan don't be so formal. It's Hermione." Ignorant girl. Susan hated ignorance but she nodded politely, if not a tad stiffly. Then Malfoy. She recalled repressing the urge to recoil at his leer. There was a reason only Parkinson was clinging on his arm. They deserved each other. Susan had no idea why Auntie invited him. She recalled him bragging about being top of the class in potions but everyone knew Snape was biased. It wasn't exactly an accurate measure of skill.

Neville was alright, she supposed. He excluded a quiet confidence that made him very approachable but like the rest of the students he suffered from a severe case of normalcy. He didn't seem to care about anything other than Quiddich and Herbology.

Then _he_ had come.

Susan pressed her palm over her mouth to suppress her giggles. Jack Woodsworth. He was one of the students that had come from the other vocational schools. Not everyone could get into the elite Hogwarts. Hogwarts was a place for the rich and the gifted.

She wondered why Jack wasn't accepted into Hogwarts. He was one of the most intelligent boys she had ever met. She thought back to the conversations they had shared in the lounge while they waited for Auntie to finish the preparations. He had spoken eloquently of magical theory and the pros and cons of society back in the Pre-Founders era.

He too had noticed the problems the Wizarding world suffered from. Susan couldn't believe she had found someone who shared her views. It was almost too good to be true. She sighed happily and leaned against the wall.

She wondered if he liked her. She had never met anyone like him, someone who listened to her. Nobody at school cared when she tried to talk to them about her auntie's campaign. So stupid they were. They didn't give one lick about anything that didn't directly concern them.

Some people just had no hearts.

But Jack, he had asked her to call him Jack, knew about these things. Boy, did he know a lot of things. He'd even been to France! She had been dying to go there for ages. Auntie said they might go in the summer. Maybe she could invite him to the rally Auntie was holding this May and then--

"Susan, how're you doing?"

She snapped open her eyes and came face to face with the person of her thoughts. Kind turquoise eyes looked at her bemusedly.

"Jack! I-I didn't see you," she cursed the stutter in her voice silently. He must think she was such an idiot. It her horror, she could feel the heat rising to her face. Oh, Merlin! She probably looked like a tomato. It was times like this she wished she had the exotic bronze skin the Patil twins had. Then her blush wouldn't be so noticeable.

She ducked her head slightly, before lifting it again and smiling shyly at him.

"Are you excited about the Session? I am. It's brilliant that we have a chance to talk 'bout these things, y'know?"

Susan nodded vigorously. She should ask him now_. Now. Now. Now_. She chanted in her head. _Come on, Susan, you can do it._ Her heart raced and she could feel her palms becoming sticky. She clenched her fists tightly before taking a deep breath.

"Er…Jack?" She managed to force out. He looked at her with interest and arched an eyebrow in question.

"I was wondering if you would like to…to come to the rally my Auntie is hosting this May? I know it's only January, but I thought since you were here, I'd ask you, on account of I don't know when I'll see you again. Of course, if you don't want to go I'd understand perfectly. You probably have better things to do…" She continued on in growing mortification. She sounded like some babbling idiot.

To her relief he interrupted her. "That'd be great, Susan. Sounds like fun. Just imagine all the people we'll meet."

Jack smiled widely at her. She suppressed the urge to giggle in glee. He wanted to go and he actually seemed excited about it. She bounced lightly on the balls of her feel.

"So…" She said a tad breathlessly. "Uh…"

Jack craned his neck up to look over her head. He whistled lowly. "Nice garden you have there."

She latched desperately onto the opening. "Yes, isn't it wonderful? I begged Auntie to let us have one. I just love flowers."

"Yeah, they're pretty interesting."

"Would you like to go outside and see them?" She questioned tentatively. _Please say yes. Please say yes._

"Sure, why not? Lead the way." He beckoned her forward and smiled. His eyes remained locked on her. She could feel her breath quickening. This was the best day ever. She looked sideways at him discreetly only to find him already looking at her. She grinned brightly at him. Auntie would adore him. Sue would be so jealous. She could hardly wait to tell her.

They walked side by side through the winding paths. Every once in a while she would interrupt the peaceful silence and describe the properties of a certain flower. He would focus his full attention on her and wait patiently until she was done. He'd then pepper her with thoughtful questions. She was having so much fun that she dreaded going back inside with the other students.

They passed a large obsidian Roman clock. Her eyes widened at the time. How had time passed so quickly? The Session was due to start in ten minutes.

"Oh, no! Look at the time, Jack. We better go back inside."

She turned to go but Jack caught her by the wrist.

"Wait a second." He looked at her with some unidentifiable emotion. Susan furrowed her brows in confusion. He seemed to hesitate before stumbling up to her uncertainly.

She felt her eyes go wide and her heart beat like a hummingbird as he leaned in. He pressed his lips against hers in a chaste kiss and pulled back. She gaped at him.

Jack smirked at her, a tinge of red highlighting his cheeks. "Let's go inside."

"Okay." She said lamely. Her head was a whirl of thoughts. She felt the insane urge to jump up and down. They walked out of the garden in silence.

"Isn't that your Aunt tight there?" Susan perked up. Auntie was here? She squinted her eyes to look into the distance.

"Auntie!" She called jubilantly. Lifting up her robes, she ran toward her auntie. She had so much to tell her. She got her very first kiss! Susan threw herself at her auntie and wrapped her arms around the taller woman.

She craned her neck up and pressed a quick kiss to her auntie's cheek.

"Susan!" Auntie Amelia smiled in amused exasperation. She threaded her fingers in Susan's hair and gave her a one armed hug.

"Come on Susan, why don't you and Mr. Woodsworth take a seat inside. We were just about to start."

Susan and Jack walked in a companionable silence to the lounge room. A bubble of happiness swelled inside her. They ignored the other students and took their seats at the front. They didn't understand the world like Susan and Jack did. Her mind was filled with thoughts of long letters through owl post and occasional trips to Hogsmeade.

Auntie entered the room and welcomed everyone. Susan sent Jack a secret smile and they settled down to listen.

The clock ticked by far too quickly in Susan's opinion. Before she knew it, Auntie was giving her closing remarks.

"I wish to thank everyone for taking time out of their day to join—"Auntie broke off suddenly. She swallowed roughly. She looked confused. Auntie opened her mouth again to speak, only to close it abruptly. She slammed her palm down on a nearby desk to steady herself.

"Are you alright, Madame Bones?"

The world blurred and tilted on its axis. Susan watched in transfixed horror as her Auntie swayed violently on her feet. Her eyes rolled until only the stark whites of her eyes could be seen. Auntie's arms jerked and flailed. Her back arched so far it looked as if her spine would snap in half.

Susan watched it all.

Everything was disjointed and it felt like she was surrounded in a haze. She was jostled roughly as the Security shoved their way past.

"Someone call St. Mungo's!"

Susan stared.

Her auntie didn't look so strong anymore. It wasn't right. She couldn't believe that was her aunt. The person who rolled desperately on the carpet, mouth gaping like a landed fish. It wasn't her. It couldn't be.

So Susan stared.

"What's wrong with her?" Granger cried in distress. Her face was flushed and her eyes wild.

"Somebody take her out of the room or sedate her."

The person was surrounded by mediwizards now. They surged around her like ants. Her face was blue like Susan's favorite necklace. Ashen hands clawed helplessly at her throat.

It couldn't be Auntie. Auntie was a strong woman. A strong woman.

"Time of death: 1500."

She could do nothing but stare.

And she forgot all about the boy with kind turquoise eyes.

_Safe House_

In a secluded cabin over a thousand miles away from Bones Manor, a hooded figure slumped onto the bed.

Turquoise bled into emerald.

A slow smirk spread across Harry's face. His eyes gleamed in satisfaction.

"I think I missed my calling. Should have been an actor."


	6. Interlude

**A/N: A short interlude. It's not really a chapter but it sets up things for later. Constructive Criticism is welcome.**

_

* * *

__"The sad truth is that most evil is done by people who never make up their minds to be good or evil." Hannah Arendt_

**Interlude: Red Moon Rising**

_September 15, 1989_

_My dearest friend,_

_I am sorrowed to say that this letter does not bring good news. You are probably wondering why I have sent this letter with June instead of my usual method. The answer is quite simple. I know I am being followed. By whom, I do not know, but I fear for my life. I see things. Horrible things. If I were someone other than myself I would have proclaimed myself mad. But I am not, as you of all people should know. They are trying to frighten me into defeat. They shall not succeed. I assure you, old friend. They shall not._

_A fort night ago, I came upon my home to find it in shambles. Drawers pulled out and my research papers were ruined as was my dear brother's picture. Oh, I'm sure he will be greatly displeased. They were in search of it; I know it. They searched but found naught. You need not worry. I have taken extreme measures to ensure that that information does not fall into their vile hands. Your people's safety I hold in the highest regards. I have moved to a secure location, though I dare not pen it down in this letter; even the most efficient precautions are not fool proof. I hear their steps in my sleep. I know they come; it is only a matter of time. Sometimes, in the dark of the night, I fear all my cautionary steps shall not stop such evil. It is for this reason that I write you. All I ask, friend, is one last favor. I cannot bear the thought of them finding my work. So I beg you, grant me this final request. I can turn to no one else._

_In the package that has arrived with this letter are several objects I think will interest you. I know you too well. You will know what to do with them. You always were a soul ruled by logic. I shall give you one clue if your brain has gone rusty from disuse. I am positive you will figure it out. Remember the silver ribbon. Remember and you will do good. I know it. You must remember. You must. As I sit here and dream of forgotten days, I wonder if things could have turned out differently. I dread that the horror has only just begun for you and that is my deepest regret. I regret that I could not and will not be able to save you from this. _

_The only solace I take is that I have cleared some of the rubble that blocked your road so that you may continue upon it __with more ease. I shall give you one last morsel of advice: Do not sway. It will bring you nothing but misery, of this I am sure. Do not sway._

_Alas! My time draws to an eminent close. But do not cry. Do not cry. I have lived a long life. One might say an eventful life. Don't listen to my brother, he knows nothing. I, an old, boring, codger! Lies, I tell you. Lies! My life has been nothing but adventure and mystery, though only you shall know the truth. Truth. It is a powerful thing, do you not think so? Guard it well. Before I part, I want to tell you not to seek me out. I'd rather you not see my remains. It is too late for me. I cannot be saved. Sometimes one just has to accept that. You must accept that. I hear them now. I must go. Do not despair, but celebrate the life I have lived. I want you to know you are the only one who has ever understood me. For this, I am eternally grateful. Do not lose hope; it still lingers upon the horizon._

_Until we meet again,_

_Damocles Belby_

_

* * *

__Within me lies a crooked old tree and upon this tree you shall dream of me…_

_1985, The Black Forest_

Long columns of life rose majestically into the clouds. Their bark was furled, delicate and wild. Spindly leaves adorned protective arms spread wide. In the distance, everlasting green rolled languidly over hills and valleys. The sky glowed bright and birds swooped playfully across periwinkle blue.

The bushes rustled slightly and parted. A tall, willowy, woman emerged from the cluster of trees. Her light, linen, skirts were smeared with mud and her hair was a halo of twigs and leafs. A bright purple flower was twisted carefully into her black curls. She seemed unperturbed about her state of disarray. Humming a gentle melody, she reached up a slender arm to adjust the woven basket perched upon her head.

The basket looked to be intricately created, almost lovingly. It was filled to the brim with candy golden apples. The woman took long, sweeping, steps forward with a sureness that implied this was not her first time wandering through the forest.

She ambled carelessly through the forest until she reached a trodden dirt path.

Before long the trees thinned out and dispersed. Idle chatter and a billowy plume of smoke rose into the sky lazily. She quickened her trot and gripped the basket tighter.

"Gwen! Finished already?" A stooped old man called out to her. His eyes crinkled kindly at her.

"Oh, yeah, I had to. Unless I wanted miss the party. Which I don't. Wouldn't miss it for nothing." She laughed delightedly. She lifted up her threadbare skirts and pranced over to the village.

"See you later, George. I need to take these beauties to Old Lady Cane. I don't want her to wallop me with that darn spoon for bein' late." She called over her shoulder.

"Alright then, dear. I'll being seeing you tonight then. Give Grandma Cane my best."

_Of Life, of Death, of Rebirth…_

_1990_

Rustic brown stalks stood tall and imposing. Deep cracks and creases worked their way up their thick spines. The leaves burned golden brown and hung precariously off feeble branches. In the distance, a patch work of yellow and speckles of green was spread sparsely over hills and valleys. The sky was musty and a lone bird squawked mournfully across the heavy clouds.

In the heart of the forest there stood a blacked splotch of land. Little mud and wooden huts were sprinkled carelessly about. They stood old and battered against the cold winter wind. In the far south of the village, a lone door creaked open.



"They gone yet, Ma? I think they gone," whispered a soft childish voice. A mane of knotted black curls peeked out of the door.

"Hush or I'll be giving you a spanking when we get home." The woman's face was pinched and she took tentative steps forward.

"M'sorry." The child mumbled. The woman reached out a long lithe arm and gripped the child by the elbow.

"No matter. Let's go. And remember not a sound." The woman trembled as she passed the ghostly huts one by one. The mud slopped thickly under their feet.

Every so often she would stop and stand stock still, her breathing in barely audible gasps. They continued in this painfully tense manner until they reached the edge of the village. The woman walked stiffly through the thickening forest with the child clinging tightly to her hand.

As the trees hustled closer together and blanketed the duo, the woman' shoulders gradually loosened. She tugged the child closer to her.

"Almost there." She whispered into the child's ear. She quickened their pace and glanced around furtively.

"What 'bout Grandma? Why couldn't we wait for her? And Billy, too?" murmured the child.

"They're gone." The woman said frostily.

"But—"

"I said they're gone." With a sharp jerk the woman dragged the child closer to her and kneeled down.

"And if you ever see them again I want you to run. Run like the hounds of hell are upon your heels."

_Of Love, of Hate, of Apathy…_

_1997_

Weary rows of death stood hunched and broken. Their bark was twisted and gnarled to a point of no return. No longer did their branches shelter, for they had nothing left to give. A lone leaf twirled at the tip of a cracked arm. The wind blew and it fell. In the distance, barren hills spanned as far as the eye could see. Gouges clawed their way down and up valleys, glutinous muck filling their empty bodies. The sky burned red and obsolete.

Auror Gawain Robards had no idea what the hell he was doing here, but damn him if he wasn't pleased as a snidget. After two years of sitting in one of those forsaken cubicles doing paperwork for those stuffy higher ups, this was pure heaven. Finally, he had chance to prove himself. He'd show that arse licking Dawlish how it was done. Then he would get the respect he deserved. But still, it would have been nice to know exactly why he was here other than "to gather intelligence".

He couldn't believe he had been requested personally for this mission by the minister himself. It was an honor of the highest degree. The minister rarely talked to anyone, let alone a lowly rookie auror. But even he had to admit that Minister Crouch was one vague bastard. He was going in blind here and nobody seemed to give a damn. Now that he thought about it, it was somewhat suspicious.

Maybe this was a test?

Yes, he decided firmly. This was probably a test to see if he had what it took to do field work. He'd heard that they still hadn't found a replacement for the Head Auror position. He grinned widely. Yes, this just might be his lucky break. He could hardly wait to tell his family.

Mother'd be pleased and Father might actually invite him to dinner in the Manor. He could hardly wait to wipe that smug look off his brother's face.

Things were finally going his way.

According to the meager data reports he had been given, further on north there was some sort of village. Apparently, it was inhabited by barbarians. He tugged out the more detailed report. He hadn't had a chance to look at it. His eyes roved over the parchment. Infanticide, cannibalism, murder, signs of bipolarity.

Well, fuck.

What kind of crazy shites were they? Suddenly he wasn't so sure about this mission. Sure, he wanted to be promoted but he didn't want someone to off him in the process. These loonies weren't even Death Eaters. What the hell was wrong with them? He read through the report carefully. He furrowed his brows in displeasure. Well, he just figured out his mission.

They didn't know what was going on either.

Enter Robards. Professional Guinea pig.

"Fuck," he snarled and kicked a nearby stone venomously. This was just great. Not only did they not take him seriously but they were actually willing to send him on some sort of suicide mission just to satisfy their curiosity.

Well, bugger them. He was going to get to the bottom of this. He'd find out what was going on and then he would relish in wiping those smug looks off they're faces.

He straightened his robes and smoothed his face into a professional mask. Auror Robards is on the case.

A strained baying echoed across the forest. Robards confident strides faltered. He took a deep breath and threw back his shoulders. He would not be swayed.

No sir.

Left foot forward, right foot forward.

Left, right, left, right.

It would have been nice to have some back up, he thought sullenly. It sure would have been helpful.

He wrestled out his battered map roughly. He turned it around confusedly for several seconds. There he was. He prodded the map with the tip of his finger. He needed to go east to get to the center. With a blunt nail he traced several paths before deciding that the one he was on was the easiest.

He nodded his head and trudged forward. He wished he could apparate, but there was some sort of resistance that prevented it. Sucking in deep breaths, he glanced warily around.

Constant vigilance, as Moody always said.

The trees became unbearably thick, he noticed. The further on in he went it became harder to navigate his way through. Often, he found himself stumbling over raised roots and stones littering his path. He kept a careful ear out for the strange baying he heard earlier. The Black Forest was known to be home to the most terrible of beasts.

He shivered.

A sharp crack broke through the air.

Robards twisted around, wand at the ready. He gripped it tightly as a little boy emerged from the bushes. Tattered clothes covered his skeletal frame and dirt was caked on to his body.

The boy looked up at him with a tear streaked face. "Please, mister! My ma needs 'elp. They're 'urting her, sir!"

The boy snatched at a piece of his robe with bony fingers. "Please…"

Robards remembered quite clearly the word "bipolar" on the report.

He looked down at the wet, desperate, eyes of the boy. He remembered even more clearly another set of eyes. Eyes the color of newly born leaves. Eyes that asked him the same question. Most days he pushed the tinge of shame away deep in the recesses of his mind. He had been young.

But today…

"Where is she?" What harm could a kid do anyway? The boys face lit up in relief and hope.

"Over 'ere!" He pulled at Robards arm and steered them forward. As they moved forward strange noises met his ears. Animalistic shrieks. His heart constricted. Fuck. He felt very tempted to dump the kid to his fate and run like hell.

But he didn't.

The trees thinned out slowly.

"What's that?" Robards slowed down to a stop. His wand tip sparked silver. The child turned toward him anxiously.

"Oh, that's Sissy. She's painting." The child said dismissively and tugged urgently at Robards robes. They moved closer, the boy babbling nonsense. Every so often Robards could catch the words "ma", "help", and "hurt".

The afternoon light shone though the thinning trees illuminating the area.

Robards felt the blood drain out of his face.

For upon a rock, near a gnarled tree, sat a little girl. She couldn't have been more than ten, he thought. The tree was coated in stick like figures with dark brown paint. Beside the rock sat a lumped shape. With each step forward it bore an increasingly clearer resemblance to a human. A human body.

She ran a tacky hand through her hair and tapped her nose. Reaching down she stroked the misshapen lump beside her.

Soft flesh of its abdomen was peeled lovingly open, exposing a tangle of red ropes like a flower in bloom. Rivers of crimson painted the poor soul's body. It pooled in muddy puddles surrounding the body.

Ashen skin and ruby lips.

The person's arms and legs were stretched in sharp angles. Unnaturally so.

The little girl probed the body before carefully delving her fingers inside. She pulled a piece of the snake like rope out and squeezed it gently into her hand. Dipping her fingers into her hand, she turned toward the tree. She scrunched up her nose in child like confusion and turned toward Robards.

"What do you think I should draw? A bunny or a doggy?" She smiled cheerfully at him.

The body's eyes bulged, a spider web of red. Its nostrils flared. Oh, _Merlin_, it was still alive.

Blood pumped wildly through his body. He shook his head wordlessly at her and took a stumbling step backward.

The little boy cocked his head curiously. "Is somethin' wrong, mister?"

_And you shall see that the end of the world lies in truth._


End file.
